


Land Next To Me

by swans_and_pirates



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 70,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7883215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swans_and_pirates/pseuds/swans_and_pirates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones sees his visit aboard the luxury spaceliner The Swan as nothing but fulfilling another assignment, a quick journey granted to him for heroic actions in the King’s Navy. Meeting Emma Swan might just change everything, especially after disastrous events leave them with only each other to hold on to. Captain Swan (Loosely based on These Broken Stars by Amie Kaufman)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lieutenant Killian Jones hated being at these ridiculous parties, the atmosphere always left him feeling suffocated. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the air felt stale, and the musicians played the same thing every single night, but he felt it actually had more to do with the throng of people that surrounded him.

Misthaven’s richest swayed and chattered around him dressed in their most expensive finery, and considering where he had grown up, he didn’t quite feel like he belonged. Though he was sure many were genuine, kind people he felt that most of them were not here for any real social interaction. They were too concerned with themselves and whether or not others were taking notice, apparent by how often they checked their reflection in anything that mirrored their image.

Despite his loathing of these high-class gatherings he had dutifully attended every last one of them. As an honorary guest on the luxury spaceliner _The Swan,_ his attendance was one that his captain had made quite clear to be mandatory. His honorary status was purely because everyone aboard this ship and in his home realm considered him some sort of naval war hero. Even if he didn’t consider what he did to be different than what any sailor would have done. However, never one to shirk his duties or his captain’s orders, he occupied his time trying the various entrées that came his way and watching the stars blur past as the ship traveled through hyperspace.

Killian drags his hand down his face in exhaustion and is just about give up and return to his quarters for the evening when he spots her. She’s sitting at a corner table completely alone, and he has no idea how someone so radiant has managed to escape the notice of everyone in the room. Her blonde hair falls in soft curls down her back and her delicate features are sitting in a slight frown as she stirs the contents of her drink with her straw.

When she lets out a soft sigh Killian feels the corners of his lips tug upwards. _She’s just as bored as he is_. He has a sudden desire to see what she looks like when she smiles, and with that in mind he makes his way over to her.

“Hello love,” her head snaps up in surprise, eyes wide for the briefest moment before they narrow suspiciously. Killian smirks at her reaction and continues, “mind if I ask what a beautiful lass such as yourself is doing sitting alone in the corner during such a…” He gestures noncommittally to the room around him, “vivacious party.”

“I’m simply waiting for some friends,” she replies as her eyes flick up and down, taking him in.

Her eyes are a startling green, and it isn’t until her lips lift in a soft smile that he realizes he’s been staring at her entirely too long. He quickly averts his eyes and scratches behind his ear nervously.

“Oh I see,” he lifts his gaze to meet her eyes again. “Well I’m happy to keep you company until they arrive.”

“You might be here a long time, they’re not exactly punctual,” she says, but that soft smile is still gracing her lips so he takes it as an invitation and sits in the chair across from hers. 

“I don’t mind, though I can’t say I can relate, when I first joined the King’s navy the other sailors would often tease me for my strict adherence to the rules, and that included punctuality.”

At the mention of the navy her eyebrows raise and her smile tugs a little higher. “I thought I recognized you, you’re that lieutenant everyone is talking about. Jones isn’t it?”

She’s fluttering her eyelashes at him and he’s not sure if it’s intentional but he feels a pleasant jolt in is stomach at the action. Those lashes are lethal, and he would gladly let them take him. “Uh…” he scratches behind his ear again, “Killian, just Killian is fine.” 

“Alright, Killian,” she says his name with distinctness like she’s testing the way it feels on her tongue. “How are you enjoying your stay aboard _The Swan_?”

“She’s quite the vessel, bigger than any town or city I’ve made port at. Though I’m used to ships that sail the sea rather than the galaxy, I must say she is rather remarkable.” His voice becomes more animated as he speaks, the lieutenant in him lighting up at the mention of ships, even if it’s a space bound one.

For a second he worries that he’s bored her, that she doesn’t care how fascinated he is by the spaceliner’s size. However, when they lock gazes her smile has only grown, as if she finds his excitement amusing.

Her smile is more dangerous than her lashes, its brightness draws him in, completely enamoring him.

_He is most definitely a goner._

Killian forgets for a moment that he hates these parties and lets his eyes scan her face, drinking her in. Her lashes drop and color fills her cheeks at the attention, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Wishing to see her eyes again Killian continues, “Yesterday I discovered that there is a large observation room on the top floor. The ship is moving so fast that the stars all look like a thousand blurred lines, it’s stunning.” She’s looking at him again, “The stars at night are one of my favorite things about being at sea, it’s hard to fathom that I’m actually up here with them.”

“They are beautiful,” she responds. “Though, I actually haven’t had the opportunity to visit the observation room.”

Killian is about to offer to take her sometime but before he can say anything there is a shout from the doorway that captures his table companion’s attention.

“Emma!” A blonde haired woman in a pale blue evening gown calls as she makes her way over to their table, quickly followed by another woman with darker hair and a red dress.

 _Emma_ , _her name is Emma._ It suits her.

“Emma there you are,” the new blonde woman says as she lets out a sigh. Killian’s eyebrow lifts at the woman’s tone, it’s almost as if she’s scolding her.

Emma ignores any inclination of reprimand and addresses her new companions. “Elsa, Ruby, this is Lieutenant Jones.”

They eye him for a moment before the blonde named Elsa offers a quick “Pleasure to meet you Lieutenant.”

Recognizing that it is perhaps time for him to take his leave, Killian silently stands and gives them a small nod, offering his seat to the darker haired woman. Before he completely exits the room he turns back to look at the table in the corner and catches Emma’s eye one more time.

-CS-

“Was that _the_ Lieutenant Jones?” Ruby’s voice brings Emma back to reality, who knows how long she’d been staring at the door Killian had left through.

“I believe so,” Emma responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Hoping she doesn’t sound too wistful. The last thing she needs is Ruby thinking she’s interested, because Emma Swan does not do relationships or romances. Not since Neal anyways.

“Wow. He’s quite handsome isn’t he?”

When Emma doesn’t offer a response Ruby shrugs then flags down a server to ask for a drink. Though Emma can’t help but agree with Ruby’s sentiment. He’s all dark hair, scruff, and devastatingly blue eyes. Not a look she would expect from a naval war hero, but it only makes him more appealing. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that the way he was looking at her gave her butterflies.

“He seemed quite smitten with you.” Ruby, now with a drink in hand, seems to want to continue discussing Lieutenant Jones.

Emma gapes at Ruby for a moment, unsure of how to reply, but is saved when Elsa finally enters the conversation.

“Emma doesn’t need some stranger she meets in space to be _smitten_ with her, lieutenant or not.” She’s still mad at Emma for giving them the slip earlier that day, and it’s apparent in the way she continues to stare her down. Yes, Elsa and Ruby are her friends but they are also her assigned personal guards, not that anyone would know that however. Most people thought it sweet that the crowned princess never went anywhere without her closest friends, never knowing that Elsa’s ice powers, and Ruby’s ability to turn into a wolf at will could take them out before they could even think of harming her.

Emma sighs, Elsa might be upset with her for giving them the slip but it was worth it. She knows her parents have good intentions and want to keep her safe, thus the need for her guards, but occasionally she desires to be alone for an hour or two.

“I don’t know,” Ruby muses, “Emma could use a little fun. Though I’m surprised he even had the nerve to approach you. Most men seem to be intimidated by the fact that you’re the princess.”

Elsa gives a quiet scoff and gives Ruby a look before replying. “Which they should, imagine if every man we came across had no qualms with flirting with a princess, we’d have our hands full, and who knows the type of scoundrels we’d have to deal with.”

Emma frowns at the turn of the conversation. The more she thinks about it, the more she believes that maybe Killian hadn’t actually known who she was. He hadn’t addressed her as princess, or highness, or any formal title for that matter. If he had known he most certainly wouldn’t have acted so casual around her, he was a lieutenant in her father’s navy after all.

Emma can feel herself smiling at the idea that he doesn’t know who she is. Someone had wanted to talk to _her,_ not the princess, _her._

“I—I don’t think he knew who I was.”

“How does a Lieutenant in the royal navy not recognize the princess?” Ruby mutters unbelievingly.

“I have no idea, but I really don’t think he knew,” she gives a quiet laugh, still smiling softly.      

“Hmm, well he’s really cute, you should look for him tomorrow.” Ruby offers, ignoring the exasperated look Elsa is giving them.

“This spaceliner is huge, I don’t think I’ll run into him again,” Emma looks down at her drink and mixes the contents with her straw, and takes a deep breath before continuing. “Besides, I’m not really interested in pursuing more than the pleasant conversation we shared today.” She then looks at Elsa and gives her a teasing smile, “So no need to worry, I won’t be starting any intergalactic romances.”

As much as Emma Swan had enjoyed the company of Lieutenant Jones, she just doesn’t do relationships. Her last one with Neal had left her shattered, and it had taken her a good long while to feel like she had pieced herself back together. No, she would keep her heart safely were it belonged, to herself. Too afraid that if she ever gave it to someone else, they might not return it in one piece. And she doesn’t think she can handle being broken like that again.

No matter how blue his eyes had been, or how many times her stomach had fluttered when he looked at her, Emma Swan hoped she wouldn’t run into him again. The look in his eyes when she inevitably pushed him away was not something she wanted to see.


	2. Chapter 2

Green eyes and soft smiles are all Killian can think about as he maneuvers the hallways that lead to his quarters. He can’t help the smile that seems to have become a permanent fixture on his face since he’d left that party. More than once he has to catch himself before he nearly makes a wrong turn. He had talked to this girl for all of five minutes and she already has him so flustered that he can’t even remember the way to his own room. Not that he minded though.

_Emma._ He tries her name out a few times silently to himself, not yet daring to test it on his lips. Considering she hadn’t actually told him her name herself, he doesn’t feel it would be proper to say it aloud.

But he thinks it, and he likes the way it sounds as it echoes inside him.

Once inside his room he slips off his shoes and flops on to his bed fully clothed. There is one relatively small window on the far wall that has quick become his favorite part of the ship. From it he can see the stars, and the steady rhythm they create as they whiz past has an almost magical calming effect on him.  

The ability to travel amidst the galaxy was something that had been discovered when he was a small lad. An innovation that came about from man’ s own ingenuity, which was a little surprising if you thought about it for too long, considering it was not unheard of to come across someone in his realm who possessed magic. Though there are ships whose main purpose is to explore and discover other realms, majority of travel through hyperspace is done in luxury spaceliners such as _The Swan._

This particular one is owned by the royal family, and its sole purpose is to be a vacation of sorts. _The Swan_ spends about a week traveling through hyperspace at intense speeds with only a few predesignated stops at various points in the galaxy. These stops have become Killian’s favorite moments aboard the spaceliner. It’s in these moments that the stars stand still and he can spend the entire day in the observation room surrounded by constellations he’s never seen and colorful nebulous clouds he never knew existed.

There is another scheduled stop in two days, and he hopes that by then he will have run into a certain blonde and convinced her to accompany him.

With more anticipation for the new day than Killian has felt in a while, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him.

-CS-

Emma is only half listening to Ruby and Elsa’s conversation as they wander through the central garden court. Her own thoughts drifting lazily between images of home, her parents, and Lieutenant Jones. She’s honestly been trying not to think of him, but he has a way of sneaking into her thoughts without her noticing, and pretty soon she finds herself trying to remember the exact shade of his eyes.

She refuses to let her thoughts linger on him for too long though, convinced that if she doesn’t think about him it will be easier to keep him at a distance if she runs into him again. However, not thinking about him is proving to be a much more difficult task than she imagined. 

“Hello, Emma?” Ruby’s exasperated voice pulls Emma out of her own thoughts.

“Sorry,” Emma gives her head a little shake and turns her attention towards her friends. “What was that?” 

“I’m trying to tell you that your lieutenant is over there, and I think he’s coming over.” Ruby gives her a sly smile and tilts her head in the direction opposite of where they’d been walking.

Sure enough when Emma turns to look he’s there, and there’s no doubt that he’s making his way over to them. She can feel hear heart fluttering against her rib cage and she suddenly feels nervous at the prospect of talking to him, because she just _can’t do this._

 “He’s not _my_ lieutenant,” she whispers quickly at Ruby. Elsa lets out a soft chuckle in response, looking much more amused at the prospect of her and the lieutenant than she had last night.

“I’m sure he’d love to be yours if you’d give him the chance, in fact I bet he—“

“Good afternoon Lieutenant,” Emma quickly cuts off Ruby from continuing, hoping that Killian hadn’t been close enough to overhear.

 He smiles before offering a soft “Hello, love.”

Elsa and Ruby excuse themselves and turn to walk a short distance away in order to give them some privacy, but not before Ruby can raise her eyebrows at Emma in a look that clearly states her enthusiasm about this whole thing. She takes a deep breath in through her nose before turning to look at Killian who’s shifting his weight nervously.

“Apologies for interrupting your walk with your friends.”

“They’re fine, they don’t mind waiting a moment.” Emma responds, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. She has no idea how she ever managed to forget their exact color, she’s never seen anything quite so _blue._  They hold eye contact for a little too long and Emma has to blink a few times and look away to clear her head.

“Right,” he lets out on a breath. “Well, I’m here to ask if you are still interested in seeing the observation room. I know you said you hadn’t been there yet, and I am more than willing to accompany you on your first visit.” He’s smiling tentatively and Emma feels her stomach drop at what she plans on doing.

“Listen, Lieutenant—“

“Killian,” he reminds her, smile widening, “and here you know my name, but I have yet to properly learn yours.”

_He really doesn’t know._ It’s such a refreshing thought that Emma feels the slightest bit of her resolve crumble.

“Emma,” she lets out a quiet sigh, “my name is Emma.”

“Emma,” he repeats her name back to her almost reverently, and she wishes she didn’t love the way it sounded coming off his lips, but she does. She needs to get this over with and fast, she needs to push him away before this can move any further than a conversation. He’ll be disappointed, but he’ll get over it. They’ll go their separate ways, never see each other again, and no one’s heart will be broken in the process. It’s better this way.

_Just push him away._

“Swan,” she watches his reaction carefully as she gives him her last name. “Emma Swan,” maybe if she can make him despise her, he’ll feel relieved that this didn’t go any further. Playing the entitled princess card might just do that.

“Swan?” She can practically see his brain putting the pieces together behind his eyes. “You’re the—“

“Princess, yes,” she tries to inflect her tone with as much conceit as possible. He flinches back ever so slightly at her change of tone, and she has to swallow before continuing. “Listen, I’m just not interested and I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. So thank you for the invite, but no.”

She watches as his jaw clenches and the brightness leaves his eyes. The confused dejection that flashes across his face before he collects himself causes an ache in her chest that she wasn’t expecting.

_It’s better this way._

She just needs to keep telling herself that.

But is it? This feeling in her chest is saying otherwise.

“Apologies your highness, I did not realize,” his tone is rigid, expression reserved. Such a stark difference from the easy smiles she’d come to associate him with. “I did not mean to disrupt your afternoon.” He gives her a stiff bow and then takes his leave without glancing at her.

She watches him go, eyes lingering on the place of his exit long after he is out of sight. She is not surprised when she hears Ruby behind her.

“What happened?”

She’s not sure she wants to explain it.

“You pushed him away didn’t you?” Ruby asks with a frustrated sigh. Emma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in response. She doesn’t feel like talking about this right now.

“Oh Emma,” she’s a little startled to feel Elsa’s arms wrap around her, but it’s comforting, which immediately makes her feel guilty and a bit confused. She shouldn’t be needing comfort, considering _she’s_ the one who had essentially shoved _him_ out the door.

Elsa releases her and gives her a sad smile, “Not every guy is going to be like Neal you know.”

Emma raises an eyebrow at her, “I thought you were against the idea of me and Lieutenant Jones.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Elsa’s words are soft and sincere, and Emma has to blink away a sudden wetness in her eyes.

Ruby grabs her hand, “Come on let’s go get ready for the gala tonight, I think you should wear that one blue dress you brought.” She lets Ruby pull her along, glad that her friends so often know what she needs, and right now that’s a distraction, a striking blue dress to forget a pair of striking blue eyes.

-CS-

He is such an idiot, a complete fool. How did he not recognize the princess? _The princess_ of all people. He’s a lieutenant in the _King’s_ navy for heaven’s sake, they very king whose daughter he had just been speaking too. What kind of naval officer can’t recognize the princess when he meets her?

He feels like a complete and utter fool.

He wants to be angry with her and he wants to blame her for leading him on, but he’s not even sure if she had been. Of course she wants nothing to do with him; the whole infuriating ship is named after her family. What’s a simple lieutenant when compared to royalty?

He’d just been so distracted by green eyes and sunshine hair that he didn’t notice she might not want anything to do with him.

But when he thinks about that first night and the way her eyes had shined, the way her smiles had come so easy, he can’t help but feel like this hadn’t always been one sided. 

He needs to clear his head and let off some steam, so he spends the next hour or so wandering the ship and wishing there was something more productive he could do to release his frustrated energy.

On his way back to his room Killian is practically thrown into the wall when the floor suddenly lurches beneath him. He staggers, righting himself and is confused for all of three seconds before he realizes that the ship is shaking. It’s settled down to small tremors but it hasn’t stopped since that first heave. The noise level in the hallway is picking up. People are turning to each other with distressed faces, trying to figure out what had just happened.

The next large quake doesn’t take Killian by surprise, he widens his stance and braces his hand against the wall to remain steady. The atmosphere around him is one breath away from panic, and he doesn’t blame them. _The Swan_ has always traveled with pinpoint stability, it is normally nigh impossible to feel any sort of movement. If you couldn’t see the stars flying past you’d assume the ship wasn’t moving at all.

_“Attention all passengers, you may feel some slight tremors as the ship undergoes some routine maintenance. It is nothing to worry about and we thank you for your patience.”_

The voice floating from the speakers sounds calm, but her voice catches slightly at the word _tremor_ , and Killian wouldn’t call them slight. In fact the next one rocks the ship so hard that it looks like a wave is surging down the hallway. People scream as their knees buckle and they grasp onto anything they can to stay upright.

What happens next is chaos.

The throngs of passengers are frantic as they try to maneuver around each other, but it does them little good. Killian pushes his way through them until he reaches the door that leads to the stairs that will take him up a level and to his quarters. He takes them two at a time and twice he has to catch himself on the railing as the ship’s shakes become more violent.

By the time he pushes his door open there are alarms bells screeching, and the voice over the intercom is back. Her voice no longer holds any semblance of calm, but is thick and tense.

_“It seems as though_ The Swan _is experiencing some difficulties as a result of dimensional displacement. We are trying to keep the ship from being prematurely yanked out of hyperspace, as a caution we ask that everyone please calmly make their way to their assigned emergency escape pod.”_

The panic coming from the hallway is deafening.  However, as a lieutenant this isn’t Killian’s first crisis. He quickly reaches under his bed to grab the emergency bag he’s grateful he’d had the forethought to pack. It’s filled with everything he might need if his survival were at stake.

Killian takes one long, deep breath before stepping out of his room into the maelstrom. 


	3. Chapter 3

She’d told Elsa and Ruby that she would only be gone a few minutes, that all she needed was a little time to herself, a quick walk to clear her head.

If only she’d waited just _ten minutes_.

Ten more minutes and they would have been together when the entire spaceliner decided to fall apart. Now Emma was completely alone in this chaos and they had no idea where she was. Not to mention that it would be virtually impossible to find each other in this mass of panic stricken people.

She tries to walk quickly through the hallway, but there are so many bodies pushing up against her it’s difficult to breathe, let alone make any progress towards safety. The fact that she is in an evening gown and a ridiculous pair of shoes doesn’t make matters any easier.

 _The Swan_ gives another large jolt, and Emma’s thrown to the floor. She isn’t even graced with a moment to catch her bearings before she’s practically trampled by the swarm of passengers hastening towards their escape pods. An anxious desperation starts to build in her chest when she suddenly feels a pair of strong hands grab her by the shoulders, hauling her up before pressing her safely into the wall.

“Are you alright, love?”

It’s the lilt on the word love that lets her know who her rescuer is, and sure enough when she looks up it’s into a pair of disarmingly blue eyes.

“You?” she gasps in surprise, a little more than shocked that he’d help her after how she’d treated him earlier.

 He lifts an eyebrow at her, “I just saved your life, a little gratitude would be nice.”

With Emma pressed against the wall there is barely an inch of space between them. She’s momentarily distracted by this realization before she pushes him away slightly to give herself room to think.

“I was managing just fine, thank you very—“a rather violent quake cuts off her reply. Killian braces himself by placing his hand on the wall next to her head, the ship rocking him impossibly closer.

Emma swallows at the sudden intimacy of their position, eyelashes fluttering on their own accord. 

“I can see that,” his voice is so close it sends a pleasant chill racing down her spine.

“I—I need to find my friends,” Emma breathes out, ducking under his arm to get away, but she only manages a few steps before his fingers wrap around her wrist and he’s pulling her back.

“I can’t just let the _princess_ wander off into a terror-hazed mob while this blasted ship tears itself apart, its bad form and I’d probably be stripped of my rank. Your friends will manage, but right now _we_ need to find the closest escape pod.”

His voice is urgent, and the ceaseless trembling of the floor beneath them is screaming out to the seriousness of the situation. Emma is hesitant, but she feels slightly reassured that if anyone can handle themselves in this chaos its Elsa and Ruby.

“Alright,” she glances at the horde of bodies making little to no progress in the crowded hallway, she doubts if any of them actually know where their assigned escape pod is. “But we’re not going to get anywhere this way, there are backup escape pods down on the maintenance level. We just need to get to the utility stairs and make our way down to the bottom floor.”

If he’s surprised that she knows this he doesn’t show it, only giving her a curt nod and telling her to lead the way.

The utility stairway isn’t too far away and they manage to push their way through in a decent amount of time. This mostly has to do with the fact that Killian keeps Emma beside the wall and acts as a literal barrier between her and the crowd. She finds this slightly annoying, but it allows them to move through the hallway quicker, so she lets it be.    

They take the stairs as fast as they feel safe doing, and Emma has to grip the railing until her knuckles ache in order to stay steady.

Killian remains silent behind her, but she can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, and it’s doing nothing to calm her own anxiety. When she chances a quick glance in his direction his jaw is clenched and his eyes are set in concentration.

It’s quieter once they reach the maintenance level, the alarms are still blaring, but the deafening noise of thousands of frightened passengers is gone. The floor is completely empty. Emma hopes this means the crew is up at the control station trying to save _The Swan_.

And she’s scared to think about what it means if they aren’t.

Running is difficult thanks to the ridiculous shoes she’s wearing, but she manages to keep up a quick enough pace. Her feet already aching from the uncomfortable straps digging into her heels, but she doesn’t let out a sound, not wanting Killian to think she can’t handle herself.

She’s not some delicate princess who whimpers just because of a few blisters.

They’ve nearly reached the backup escape pods when they pass through an observation deck. As soon as Emma glimpses the universe outside the large window her stomach drops and she pulls to an abrupt halt.

The stars outside are alternating between the smooth lines of space travel, and the fixed points that accompany a stationary spaceliner. It’s like _The Swan_ is trying, and _failing,_ to stay in hyperspace. The sight makes Emma sick, because she knows that if they are yanked completely out of hyperspace prematurely, the damage to the ship could be catastrophic.

Killian’s jaw is hanging open, and for the first time since she ran into him this evening, there is panic in his eyes.

_He knows_

They share a look of devastated understanding before Emma swiftly leads them down the walkway and through the next hallway.

The pod is only a bit farther and they reach it in just under a minute. The sound of the doors hissing close behind them is like a sigh of relief. They are relatively safe for now.

The escape pod is fairly small; a curved row of six industrial looking seats takes up most of the space, and one small square window is situated above the center of the bench. Besides the window, there are several cabinets built into the wall, and she guesses they are most likely filled with emergency supplies.

Emma takes a seat and straps herself in, trying hard not think about how unlikely it is that thousands of people have made it to escape pods by now, especially in all of that chaos.

_She should have taken more people with her._

How hard would it have been to tell a group of people to follow her? There are four more seats in this pod, four more people she could have saved. Not to mention that the entire hallway is lined with backup escape pods.

But she can’t think about that right now, because if she does, the guilt will eat her alive.

She just prays that Elsa and Ruby are safely tucked into an escape pod somewhere.

Emma takes a deep breath in through her nose to calm herself and then lets her eyes fall on to Killian. He’s already managed to start the launching sequence, and after securing his pack underneath the bench he begins to strap himself into a seat two down from hers. Now that they aren’t racing through _The Swan_ , his demeanor is withdrawn and cold. Not that she blames him, considering how she’d snubbed him early that afternoon.

Emma lets out a sigh as she runs her fingers through her hair. Who knows how long they’ll be in this pod until rescue comes, but she can already tell that it is going to be _long._

The silence between them is thick, the rhythmic beeping of the launch countdown the only sound echoing off the walls.

So it becomes painfully obvious when the countdown suddenly shuts off at twenty-two seconds.  Not even a heartbeat later it’s accompanied by the largest jolt Emma has felt since this whole thing started. It leaves her breathless and rattles all the way down to her bones. A quick glance out the small window tells her that the stars are utterly motionless, they’ve been completely wrenched out of hyperspace.

_And they’re still attached to the ship._

Emma quickly yanks off her safety straps and kneels in front of the pod’s control panel. They only have minutes before the spaceliner starts hurtling through space. She’s not quite sure about the details of what will happen, but she’s sure it can’t be good.

“What are doing?” Killian exclaims, beginning to undo his own straps.

Emma puts up a hand to stop him. “Just stay there, I’m fixing the launching sequence.”

“How do you know how to—“

“I just do!” She shouts, stress making her voice rise.

Killian remains in his seat, so Emma turns to the control panel and yanks open the little door. She’s greeted with countless wires that she knows absolutely nothing about.

She takes a deep breath before hovering her hands over the wires, making sure to use her body to keep them blocked from Killian’s view.

Emma’s known for a while now that she possesses magic, though so far she’s been utterly useless with it. She’s not had much practice, and has a difficult time channeling and utilizing it when she needs to. It mostly just comes in sporadic uncontrolled bursts, but if there was ever a time for her to control it, it’s now.

She closes her eyes and wills her magic to the surface, desperate for the feeling of her veins heating as it surges through her.

“Come on, come on…” she mutters to herself, giving her hands a little shake. “Come on, please.”

She feels her magic rush through her and quickly opens her eyes to see her hands emit a small, soft, white glow that transfers to the wires and sends them sparking. Her eyes dart to the countdown clock and she can’t help the smile that breaks across her face when she sees that it’s on.

_She did it._

Her magic must have been a little too enthusiastic though, because the pod doesn’t wait for the countdown to finish before it propels itself away from _The Swan._ The force of the action sends Emma flying into the wall in front of her, head hitting against it sharply. She doesn’t even get a chance to blink before her world turns black.  

-CS-

The escape pod rocks slightly as it tries to stabilize itself following its abrupt departure from _The Swan._ Emma lies in a crumpled heap on the floor, and Killian lets out a quiet curse as he unfastens his straps and kneels next to her.

He doubts the pod has any artificial gravity, and so he needs to get them both strapped into their seats immediately. He doesn’t think he has the patience right now to deal with trying to get a floating princess into her safety straps.

Emma lets out a soft groan as Killian grabs underneath her arms and pulls her into her seat. There’s a large bruise already forming above her left eyebrow, and he’s sure she’ll have a significant headache when she wakes.

The lack of gravity takes affect while he’s in the process of harnessing himself in. The lightness is an odd feeling, but at least being strapped in gives him some semblance of control.

Emma’s hair is floating around her like a halo, and Killian can’t help but find the image entirely mesmerizing. She’s beautiful, even with the beginnings of a bruise darkening her forehead.

_How did she do it?_

Of all the skills Killian would have guessed she possessed, knowing how to manipulate wires and jump start an escape pod would not have be one of them.

He’s still studying her when she lets out another small distressed moan, shutting her eyes tighter so her forehead crinkles, before slowly opening her eyes. She blinks several times and brings her hand up to delicately touch her blossoming bruise, wincing at the contact.

“What happened?” she asks, still disoriented.

“Well your highness, you managed to restart the launching sequence, which was quite the brilliant feat by the way, but knocked yourself out in the process.” She winces again as he says this, and he knows her head must be sore. “I then safely strapped you to your seat and here we are.”

“Thanks,” she gives him a strange look before looking away. “Hopefully rescue won’t take too long.”

 Killian clenches his jaw before looking out the small window.

_She probably wants to get out of this pod and away from him as quickly as possible. After all, she’d made it perfectly clear that he was nothing but a sailor._

Silence settles over them, and Killian is about to close his eyes to try to get some sleep when the lazy drift of the escape pod is interrupted by several small, but abrupt jerks.

After a particularly intense rock Killian turns to look at Emma, she’s biting her lip and her brow is furrowed.

“I don’t think it should be doing this,” the anxiety is practically dripping off her words. “There should be stabilizers that keep us steady.”

“Something must be interfering with the sensors then.”

“What could possibly—“ The pod shudders violently again before it sharply flips around, rocking them in their seats.

Thanks to their new vantage point, they can see a soft glow coming in through the window. Killian cranes his neck to get a better look at where it’s coming from, and his mouth drop open at what he sees.

“Is that a _planet?_ ” Emma sounds as dazed as he feels.

The pod shudders aggressively and begins vibrating incessantly, the shaking metal creates a thunderous hum that is nearly ear-splitting.

“Bloody hell,” Killian mutters as he leans his head back against the seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. This day couldn’t get any worse.

He knows now what is messing with the pod’s stabilizers, it’s the planet.

And it’s the planet’s gravity that is currently dragging them down into its atmosphere. They are descending at a white hot pace, coming in for a crash landing.

Though he suspects it will be more crashing then landing, and that’s if they are fortunate enough.

The force of the pod’s acceleration as it cascades downwards presses him up into his harness, causing the straps to dig into his shoulders painfully. He takes several breaths with the intent of relaxing before purposefully catching Emma’s eyes, and he’s sure that the look of utter shock and exhaustion he sees is mirrored in his own expression. 

The next minutes are tense as they continue to plummet to the planet’s surface. Killian is on the verge of losing hope for any semblance of a safe landing when a sudden impact jars him so hard the breath is stolen from his lungs. It’s with relief that Killian realizes that the pod’s descent has significantly slowed, their now floating down rather than dropping.

The emergency parachute must have been released.

Emma lets out a shaky, slightly hysterical laugh in relief, a laugh that sounds as though it is teetering dangerously on the edge of becoming a sob.

Their respite is momentarily cut short by a sudden crashing noise and the sound of something scrapping against the outside of the pod. They are jerked back and forth for a while as the pod smashes through what Killian can only imagine to be trees, until finally they come to a pounding stop.

_They’ve landed._

They’ve landed, and they’re alive, and Killian has never been so grateful for a parachute in his life.

He takes a second to calm down his ragged breathing, stretching his limbs to check for any injury. His entire body is aching and sore, but nothing seems to be broken.

Emma’s own harsh breathing catches his attention and when he looks at her, she’s as white as a sail. She’s struggling to undo her straps, the trembling of her hands getting in the way.

Killian swiftly unstraps himself from his seat and slides over next to her before taking her shaking hands into one of his.

“Hey,” he whispers softly. Emma snaps her head up so fast you’d think he’d shouted. Her eyes are wide and her pupils are so dilated they practically swallow her jade irises.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he keeps his voice soft and quiet, sure that she’s probably dealing with some stage of shock right now. “We’re okay.” He gives her hands a small squeeze. “You’re okay.”

She takes in a deep shaky breath and holds it for a second before releasing it in one quick puff of air. She gives him a small nod and he let’s go of her hands before standing and running his own hand through his hair.

She affects him. He wishes that she didn’t, but she does. Just holding her hand had sent his stomach flipping in a way completely unrelated to the ordeal they’d just been through. 

“I’m going to go take a look at our surroundings,” Killian tells her briskly, needing some air. “See where we’ve landed.”

He doesn’t wait for her to respond before opening the doors and stepping out onto the foreign terrain. 

Killian takes a moment to look around the periphery of the escape pod.

Trees. All he sees are trees.

They’ve managed to crash into some kind of forest, not unlike one that Killian would find near his home. And at least they’re not on some planet covered in ice and snow, or one covered in who knows what else.

He can deal with trees.

Killian is so preoccupied with taking in his surroundings that he doesn’t hear Emma come up behind him.

“At least we can breathe the air.”

He turns to look at her, she’s still pale and her bruise on her forehead is more noticeable, but she seems to have composed herself. 

“Aye, that is rather fortunate.”

She looks up as though she’s trying to see as much of the sky as she can between the leaves. “Maybe _The Swan_ didn’t sustain too much damage,” her voice is hopeful, “maybe they were able to make repairs and it will just be a few hours before they send someone down to rescue us.”

Killian stares at her for a moment, he highly doubts that _The Swan_ survived its rip out of hyperspace. He’s fairly certain that it suffered a fate similar to their escape pod, only that its downward spiral towards this forsaken planet most likely ended much more abysmally. But he’s not quite sure how to tell her this.

“I don’t know,” he drags his hand down his face before continuing, “all I know is that we need to figure out where we are, what supplies we have, and how to get a signal out so that whatever rescue does come, can find us.” 

After all, he’s sure that once word of _The Swan_ ’s fate reaches the ears of their home realm, the royal family will send out every ship in the kingdom in order to bring their daughter back.

“Alright, Lieutenant,” she stands up a little straighter and at this moment her demeanor is all royalty. “Where do you suggest we start?”


	4. Chapter 4

Emma leans her head back heavily against the tree she’s sitting against. Her body aches and her head is throbbing from when she smacked it earlier. The bruise pulses in time with her heart, pain flaring angrily at even the lightest touch.

She wishes desperately that she could rest her tired body amidst her thick comforter and soft pillows, wishes that she could simply sleep off the effects of the day.

Because in all honesty, today has been an absolute nightmare.

It’s hard to come to terms with everything that’s happened within the last hour, and it is already starting to feel like one hazy, adrenaline, panic-stricken dream. It’s especially hard for her to fathom what could have caused _The Swan_ to tear itself out of hyperspace, and consequently send her entire world spinning. Her family’s spaceliner was supposed to be untouchable, completely safe. Protecting her had been the main reason her parents had insisted she spend so much time aboard it.

_So much for protection._

She was now stranded on some strange planet, with no one but a lieutenant, who more than likely hated her, for company.

That very same lieutenant who was currently inside the pod messing around with heaven knows what. He’s been in there for a good ten minutes and the only noises she can hear are what sound like metal moving around and the occasional frustrated mutter.

He’d told her to stay out here while he took a look around inside the pod. His motives probably stemming from some chivalrous idea that since she was the princess it was his duty to make sure things were taken care of. Normally she would object to such notions, but she wasn’t necessarily too keen on the idea of going inside the pod again, so she’d conceded without much argument.

So she occupies her time trying _not_ to think about the fact that no one knows where they are, and instead closes her eyes and tries to enjoy the echo of a nearby bird’s song drifting through the air.

The sound of Killian’s footsteps reach her before he does, so she’s not startled when he drops his bag a few feet away from her. Instead she slowly opens her eyes and glances at the significantly fuller pack sitting on the forest floor.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” she asks, though if the way he is dragging his hand through his hair is any indication, he didn’t.

She almost misses his response, distracted by the way his hair now stands, tousled and sticking out in a way that is strangely pleasant.

“I was trying to see if I could get the communications system working, to send out a stress signal,” he lowers himself down onto a fallen tree across from her. “But I think the force of our fall, and the nature of our not so ideal landing has left it in ruins. I doubt even your expertise could fix it.”

Emma tries not to let the hopelessness she feels at the news show on her face. “So what’s in your pack then?”

At her question Killian reaches through the space and drags the pack towards him. “Well milady, luckily enough I had the forethought to grab this from my quarters. It contains a few things that we might need to ensure our survival.” He begins to pull a couple of items out, showing them to her as he continues, “The pod also had some emergency supplies, not much, but some ration bars, a blanket, a canteen, basically just a few essentials.”

“That was very insightful of you,” and she means it with the utmost sincerity, completely aware that his bag will probably be what keeps them alive.

The corners of his mouth lift slightly in a self-depreciating smile, “If there is one thing I’m good at, your highness, it’s surviving.”

Emma lets her eyes study his face for a second and finds herself wondering what other terrors he’s had to survive.

Averting his gaze from hers, Killian stands before wiping his hands on the side of his pants. “Since the communication system is destroyed, we need to get out in the open so that we can be seen in case rescue comes.”

He makes is way over to the nearest tree and rubs his hands together while looking up at it. Realizing what he intends to do, Emma stands hastily and makes her way over to him.

“What exactly are you doing?” she exclaims, eyebrows rising in disbelief.

“What does it look like I’m doing? We presently have no idea which direction to head and climbing this tree will give me the vantage point I need to figure it out.”

“Are you crazy?  You’ll have to climb ridiculously high to be able to see anything, and those top limbs don’t exactly look sturdy.”

“I’ll be fine,” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s no different than climbing up to the crow’s nest aboard a ship.”  

“You’ll fall.”

His eyebrow rises before his mouth settles into a teasing smirk, “Would you miss me?”

Emma crosses her arms stubbornly, “Not at all.”

 _Possibly,_ she thinks. 

“Have a little faith, darling,” he shakes his head slightly before turning back to the tree.

She watches him for a moment, mouth slightly open, and he’s a good ten feet up the tree before she responds.

“Fine, fall for all I care!” she shouts up at him, before sitting down with a huff on the log he had previously occupied. “Such an idiot,” she mutters to herself, “probably going to break his neck.”

“What was that, love?” he calls down to her, the branch he’s grasping swaying a little. If he keeps talking he’s definitely going to f all.

“Stop talking, and climb your stupid tree!” she hears him give a soft chuckle at her cry.

The minutes drag on as he climbs, and Emma tries not to feel anxious the higher he gets.

She tries to tell herself that knot in her stomach is just because she needs him to help her survive. But stranded on a planet or not, she finds herself internally cringing at the thought of something happening to him. The tree sways dangerously for a second, and she finds herself holding her breath, not releasing it until he’s found steady footing again.

Staring up at him though, she can’t help but notice that he looks good climbing a tree, muscles taut with exertion. Not that she’d ever tell him that, or admit it aloud to herself for that matter.

He must have seen what he needed to see because he starts making his way down, his feet finally hitting solid ground with a soft thud.

Wiping his hands off against his clothes again he makes his way over to her. “Alright, we need to head that way,” he points in a direction to the left of her. “Let’s call it west, since it’s opposite of where I think the sun rose from.”

Emma stands as Killian grabs the pack and slings it over his shoulder. He’s close enough to her that when he straightens, he only has to lean in slightly to place his lips next to her ear and whisper, “I told you I wouldn’t fall.”

-CS-

Thankfully their hike to open terrain isn’t too long, their pod had conveniently landed near the edge of the forest. Killian knows that once they hit the tree line they’ll be met with miles of grass plains and a significantly thinner arrange of trees.

Even though the distance isn’t too far, it still takes them at least an hour to traverse through the thick forest. Emma is lagging behind a bit and though he knows her limbs are aching just like his, he figures that along with the combination of those fancy shoes she’s wearing and the headache she’s surely suffering, she has a good excuse to be a little slower.

But she’s a tough lass and doesn’t let a noise of complaint, or a whimper of pain escape her lips.

Occasionally they’ll have to cross over a particularly large fallen tree or make their way over a small creek, and ever the gentleman, he’ll turn and offer Emma his hand and assistance.

The first time he does it she stares at his hand entirely too long, hesitating before taking it. Killian tries not to clench his jaw at her reaction, and he tries to banish the thought that even if they are the only two people on this planet, she still wants nothing to do with him.

But she accepts his help each time, and they remain quiet for most of their small journey.

Killian is the first to walk through the tree line, and the sight that greets him churns his stomach and makes him wish they had spent just ten more minutes under the cover of the forest.

“Emma, go back.”

“What? Why?” his warning is too late though, and he watches the color drain from her face when she looks up into the sky.

Off in the distance, burning metal debris is raining down towards the planet. The large pieces glowing hot and fiery as they fall from the sky. But the burning debris is only the framework for what is really happening.

 _The Swan,_ in all its colossal grandeur is plummeting towards the surface. Twisting gracelessly as it makes its descent. Pieces of the hull are sporadically being torn off, as if they can’t keep up with the speed in which the spaceliner is falling.

“Emma, come on,” he entreats softly, “turn away, you don’t need to watch this.” However, despite his pleadings, neither of them can manage to tear their gaze away from the tragedy unfolding in front of them.

Emma releases a small chocked sound, and before Killian can think about what he’s doing, he’s wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Together they watch _The Swan_ in its final moments. They watch until the ship is no longer visible, disappearing behind a small mountain in the distance. They watch as a large black cloud billows into the sky, a final but fading epitaph that swirls towards the heavens.

Emma turns her face into his chest, and he can feel her body shaking as she sobs against his shirt. He wraps his other arm around her and pulls her in even closer, his hand running up and down her spine in an effort to soothe.   

She grasps his collar with a trembling hand, “Ev-everyone, that was on—“ her voice comes in broken gasps, “everyone th-that was inside—“

“Shhhh, I know,” Killian continues to rub his hand along her back, his voice low and quiet. He places his chin atop her head, wetness gathering in his own eyes before he blinks them closed. “I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

Emma watches in a numb sort of daze as Killian busies himself with setting up camp for the night. The sun is setting, but there is still enough light left in the sky that the dark cloud of smoke coming from _The Swan_ ’s crash landing is perfectly visible, and though it is miles and miles away, she feels as though the smoke is smothering her, making it difficult to breathe.

_All those people_

She’d spent what felt like an eternity sobbing into Killian’s chest, and now, though she’s regained some of her composure, a few silent tears still make their way down the salty path along her cheeks.

Killian’s doing all the work, gathering the wood, and working on getting a fire started, but she just can’t seem to make herself move. So instead she stands and watches him move about the little clearing. Feeling utterly useless, but too emotionally drained to do anything about it.

Killian, it seems, is well versed in the art of making fires, because within minutes there’s a decent fire blazing, the flames growing larger as they flicker to life, heating up the cold, empty space around them.

“Emma, love,” Killian’s voice is soft, subdued, and Emma slowly shifts her gaze away from the flames and onto him. “Why don’t you come sit down? We’ve had a long day, and it’s going to be dark soon.”

Nodding her head, she drags her exhausted limbs to the campfire and practically collapses in front of it. Killian lowers himself down across from her, letting out a long and weary sigh.  She watches as he runs his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck before looking up at the sky.

Emma takes the opportunity to study him, and it isn’t until just now that she notices the red around his eyes, that he probably has been crying just as much as she has.

It’s hard to come to terms with the magnitude of what just happened. It’s hard to accept that _hundreds_ of people are probably dead. It’s hard to accept that those people have loved ones at home who are currently unaware that their mother, or father, or child, is never coming home. It’s all a little too much, and it creates an intense ache in her chest, stealing her breath.

“Do you think anyone made it?” It’s the first thing she’s said since the crash, and her voice sounds broken even to her own ears.

“I don’t know, it’s possible.”

“It’s just—“ she takes in a deep, shaky breath and finally lets herself think what she’s desperately been trying to avoid. “Just that—Elsa, and Ruby were—“ she chokes on another sob, “I don’t know if they were—“ Finishing her sentence proves to be impossible and she has to bring her hand to her mouth to try to keep the sobs at bay.

She thought she’d cried herself out earlier, but apparently she wasn’t quite done. Killian shifts a little closer to her and gently pulls her hand from her mouth, his thumb rubbing soothing circles across the back of it.

It’s the second time in less than an hour that she has let Killian Jones comfort her, and she honestly can’t say that she minds.

“They might still be out there,” his voice is low, and the deep timbre is soothing in its own way, “they may have managed to secure themselves in an escape pod, or it’s possible they survived the crash.” He gives her hand a small squeeze before releasing it. “But Emma, if they didn’t… it’s okay to grieve, it’s okay to mourn their loss, but don’t let it drown you, don’t do that to yourself, love.”

The sky is darkening, the last of the sunlight disappearing beneath the horizon, and the shadows from the flames dance across his face. Not once since he started talking has Killian moved his blue eyes from hers, so she’s not startled when he lifts his hand to wipe away one of her tears with the back of his finger.

“All we can do in times like these,” he continues, “is try to live in the here and now. Your friends, they would want you to keep living.” He offers her a small, sad smile before pulling away slightly. “If there is one thing I have learned about death, it’s that life is what demands to be remembered. Life is what lingers. It’ll leave traces that never quite fade, and even years later can brighten with the slightest prompting. It’ll happen when you eat Elsa’s favorite dessert, or when you meet someone who uses the same hand gestures Ruby did. But no matter what, you’ll always remember them; they can never truly leave you.”

 His words somehow manage to make her feel a little better, maybe not okay, but less like she’s going to suffocate beneath her own anguish. “You seem to know a lot about death,” she whispers, and watches as her words cause a flicker of despair to flash behind his eyes. 

“Aye, though most of the time I wish I didn’t.”

He doesn’t expand or offer any other information, and Emma finds herself wishing he would, maybe then she could offer him some small amount of the same comfort he’s given her.

Killian clears his throat before standing and walking over to his pack. “We should eat and try to get some rest,” he says, tossing her a ration bar. “We have two blankets, but I think we would both be warmer if we just made up one bed and slept next to each other.”

Emma’s eyes widen at his words, and suddenly her heart is racing due to feelings quite the opposite of sorrow and anxiety.

“I don’t think that is such a good idea,” she says, standing quickly. The very thought of him sleeping next to her, and her possibly wrapping herself around him while unconscious, is enough to make her blush. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

She’s so preoccupied with avoiding his gaze that she doesn’t notice the way his shoulders suddenly tense. “I’ll just take this blanket,” she takes one of the folded blankets from his hands and makes her way over to the opposite side of the fire, “and sleep over here, and you can sleep on that side.”

“Your highness,” the hardness in his tone catches her off guard and she finally looks at him. “Though I know I may be the last person you’d want to share sleeping arrangements with, we’d both be warmer, and therefore sleep better, if we were to share one bed.”

She stares at him unable to come up with a response, mouth open, eyes blinking furiously.

He thinks she doesn’t want to sleep next to him because she _doesn’t like him_?

He huffs at her lack of response, shaking his head before lying down with his blanket and turning away from her.

But she’s still standing, rooted to the same spot, staring at his turned back. The conversation where she had rudely pushed him away at the intent of protecting her own heart feels like it was a lifetime ago. Had it really only been a few hours? He’d shown her so much kindness, and been so _soft_ with her, that she’d all but forgotten the way she had coldly rejected him.

Grabbing her blanket, Emma lies down on the opposite side of the fire; her mind still stewing over the fact that Killian probably thinks she hates him. When in fact, the reason she doesn’t want to sleep next to him is quite the opposite. Somewhere between crash landing, trekking through the forest, crying in his arms, and crying in front of him _again,_ she has maybe started to like him a lot more than she probably should. And that is in _one day._

_She’s doomed._  

Though maybe with the prospect of too blue eyes, dark hair, dimpled smiles, and warm, comforting arms, she could be okay with being doomed, in this instance, at least.

Killian was right though, and despite being next to the fire she’s cold. It doesn’t help matters that whenever she closes her eyes she sees _The Swan_ falling over, and over again.

 Curling into herself and wrapping her arms around her knees, Emma lets out a quite sigh, resigning herself to a long, sleepless night.

-CS-

When Killian wakes the next morning Emma is already up, sitting next to the fire and prodding the dying embers with a stick. She looks tired. Her eyes are swollen from crying the previous night and there are slight shadows underneath them, and the bruise across her forehead is impossibly darker than it had been yesterday.

“Morning,” she barely looks away from what she’s doing when she greets him.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?”

Her small shoulders lift in a tiny shrug, “I slept fine.”

He knows she’s lying, but he doesn’t say anything, instead he busies himself with putting away the few things they’d gotten out, and dousing the fire completely.

Once there are no more embers to stab she stands, brushing her hands off on her dress and turning to face him. “So what’s the plan now, lieutenant? Should we just wait and see if rescue comes now that we’re a little more out in the open?”

“Actually,” he smirks a little at the way she’s standing with her arms crossed, looking at him expectantly. “I think it would be best if we started making our way to where _The Swan_ crashed, the communications system in the pod was beyond hope, but maybe we can get something working on the spaceliner.”  

She looks absolutely distraught at the idea of walking all the way to the crash site. “You want to walk to _The Swan_? Its miles away! And I don’t know if you noticed, but it fell behind a _mountain_.”

“Were more likely to get rescued if we can get out some sort of signal, but if you wish to stay here, I could leave you with half the supplies, and come back to get you once I’ve figured out a means to communicate with your parent’s kingdom.”

“No, don’t leave!” She looks even more panicked at the prospect of being left alone. “I’ll come, I’m not averse to walking… it’s just my shoes,” there’s a slight grimace on her lips as she gestures to the delicate evening wear around her feet, “are a little impractical and walking in them for long distances is a little difficult.”

“Here, give them to me.” He holds out his hand expectantly, and chuckles slightly at the way Emma’s eyes narrow suspiciously.

Once she’s handed them over, Killian easily snaps off the heels and gives them back. “There, walking should be a little easier now.”

“Thank you,” Emma sounds truly grateful and even though all he did was snap off a piece of her shoe, Killian’s stomach flips at the way her eyes brighten when she smiles up at him.

“What, no righteous indignation that I’ve destroyed your shoes?”

“Please,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes slightly, “like I care about my shoes.”

Despite the fact that just last night she didn’t even want to sleep next to him, Killian feels a little lighter at her response to his teasing, and he can’t help but hope that perhaps she doesn’t despise him as much as he thought.

“Ah, that’s not very princess-like of you, now is it?”

“My tutors shall be absolutely devastated; I guess I’ll just have to tell them it was your doing.”

Killian has to bite his lip to keep from smiling, it’s good to see her expression contain something other than the sadness of yesterday’s tragedy, and he raises his eyebrow at the playful mischief dancing in her eyes. “And I will tell them it was all in the name of good form. That I was merely protecting the princess’s lovely ankles.”

She blushes at the word _lovely_ , and that small spark of hope that she doesn’t hate him flares a little brighter.

“I guess we’re safe then,” she says, smiling at him softly, “and really, I should be thanking you for offering such valiant service to the crown.” She gives an extravagant little curtsey, and he can’t seem to wipe the grin off his face.

“My pleasure, your highness.”

Her eyes turn serious for a moment, and he’s left a little breathless when her jade eyes blink up at him. _When did he step so close to her?_

“Do you think you could not call me _your highness_?”

She doesn’t seem angry though, just thoughtful, “What would you like me to call you?” his voice comes out a little breathier than he’d like, and bloody hell, this woman does things to him.

“I don’t know, I just liked when you didn’t know who I was, and for all we know we’re the only ones on this planet, so it seems a little ridiculous to refer to me as your highness…you could just use my name?”

_Emma,_  he loves her name, loves the way it feels on his lips, but he’s scared that if he says it too often she’ll be able to discern just how much he’s starting to like her. That by the way his voice wants to wrap around each syllable, she’ll be able to hear just how much he’s falling for her.

“Alright, Swan. Should we begin our arduous journey across these unchartered lands?” She smiles at the informal use of her surname, and he gathers that she doesn’t often get the pleasure of having someone refer to her so casually.

Her expression is so open as she looks up at him, that Killian has to fight the urge to tuck a stray strand of her golden hair behind her ear. The intensity of this sudden desire surprises him, and so he takes a step back and scratches the back of his head nervously. “Right,” he has to blink a few times and shake his head in order to clear it, “uh…yesterday I noticed that there is a little stream we can follow, it heads out quite a ways into the grassy plains, and travels in the direction we need to go. This way we won’t have to worry about searching for water throughout the day, at least not for a little while.”

“Okay,” she says and begins walking in the direction he mentioned, “let’s head out then.”

Killian stands and watches her walk for the space of heartbeat before following after her, a ridiculous smile on his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s barely past mid-afternoon and Emma already feels as though they’ve been walking for an eternity. When they started out that morning she knew they had quite the distance to travel, but thinking about walking for hours, and actually walking for hours are two very different things.

Her limbs are heavy with exhaustion and her feet absolutely _ache,_ and though they haven’t really stopped for a break, she hasn’t suggested one. The last thing she needs is for Killian to think that she can’t handle a little bit of walking. 

It’s been a while since either of them has said anything, and the silence is filled instead with the continual rhythm of their footsteps and quiet breathing. Not that Emma necessarily minds the silence, it provides her an opportunity to sift through her own thoughts and observe the environment around them.

What she’s noticed is that though they’ve technically landed on an unknown planet, it doesn’t really feel too unfamiliar. The trees, the grass, the stream flowing steadily alongside them, it all looks and feels exactly like it would if they were strolling through the wilderness on their own planet.

However, despite the similar environment she can’t help but notice that the air here is a little different. Not in the sense that it is different when she breathes, but rather it _feels_ different.  Every once in a while the air feels as though it’s humming, it’s a silent but pulsating feeling that makes her skin tingle and her spine shiver.

And when it happens again she finds herself staring at the back of her hands, trying to see if there is a physical difference on her skin.

“What has you so deep in thought, Swan?”

Killian’s voice breaks her from her reverie and she looks up from her hands to see him walking backwards, staring at her with a curious lift to his eyebrow.

“It’s just the air here,” she looks back down at her arms, “I was trying to see if I could see a difference on my skin when it’s humming like it is now. I mean, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for… maybe my hairs standing on end or something.”

“Humming?” he says, tilting his head to the side, his eyebrow rising impossibly higher.

“Yeah, humming. You don’t feel like your skin is tingling?” And she has a hard time believing that he doesn’t, considering its happening right now and she can feel it all the way down to her toes.

“Like a chill from the wind?”

“Except there is no wind,” she mutters quietly. The air is practically buzzing, but she’s suddenly unsure if what she’s feeling is from the planet, or maybe she’s just cold and tired. “You don’t feel it?”

“I’ve yet to experience the sensation, love.” He stops walking and swings his pack around from his shoulders to pull out their canteen. “But why don’t we stop and rest for a while?” He hands her the canteen before pulling out another ration bar, splitting it in half and handing her a piece.

She takes a long drink from the canteen, still a little disconcerted that apparently only she notices the humming air. But it’s stopped now, so she’s choosing to ignore it, and she’ll see if it goes away once she’s had a good night’s sleep.

“How much farther are we walking today?” she asks, trying not to sound as tired as she feels. Her lack of sleep from the other night is really starting to catch up to her, and she wants nothing more than to curl up on the soft grass and sleep for the rest of the day.

Killian’s eyes trace over her face for a second, before he gives her a small smile. It’s like he can see right through her efforts to try and hide her exhaustion. “We’ll keep going until the sun starts to set, so two more hours or so.”

He takes the canteen from her and takes a quick drink before replacing it in his pack, nodding his head to the side to indicate that they should keep walking.  

“Why don’t we play game to help pass the time?” Killian looks down at her with his lip between his teeth and Emma can’t help but lick her own lips before flicking her gaze up from his mouth to his eyes.

“A game?” she asks skeptically.

“Aye, a game. We sometimes played it in the navy to help relieve the monotony that can often come with a long day at sea.”

She could use a distraction; otherwise she might drive herself crazy with something ridiculous like counting how many steps she takes until they stop walking. “Alright,” she sighs, “what’s your game?”

He smiles at her, apparently pleased that she’s playing along. “I give you a riddle, and you solve it by asking questions that I can either answer with a yes or a no.”

“Fine,” she lets out a long exhale, and Killian looks entirely amused at how begrudging she’s being about this, “what’s your riddle?”

* * *

 The last two hours of the day go by much quicker than the rest of the day had, and Emma suspects that has a lot to do with Killian. They play his ridiculous game for a while, but once the riddles end, the conversation never really stops.

And Emma doesn’t normally _do this._ This talking for hours about nothing important, this laughing until she can’t breathe,  this thing where her heart flips every time the man smiles.

At least she hasn’t in a long time, and she hadn’t planned on doing it ever again. But here she is, and it scares her a little with how _easy_ it is. 

So when night comes, and the camp is set, she takes her blanket and situates herself on the opposite side of the fire again. Knowing that she’d probably be warmer and she’d probably sleep better next to him, but also knowing that despite how much she likes him, and despite this easy friendship they’ve created, she’s just not ready for _that_ yet, even if it is just sleeping.

Pulling the blanket a up a little higher so that it covers more of her body, Emma closes her eyes, tires to ignore the fact that the air is humming again, and wills herself to sleep.

* * *

 On the fourth day of their trek to the fallen spaceliner, Emma’s patience is thin, and her temper is short. It’s a culmination of eating nothing but those stupid ration bars, barely getting any sleep, walking for hours on end, and the fact that at least ten times a day the air makes her skin tingle, which Killian still doesn’t feel.  

So when they finally get to the mountainside and Killian doesn’t even pause before walking into the forested terrain, Emma can’t help the frustrated exhale that escapes her lips.

“Killian, stop.”

“What is it, Swan?” he turns around to look at her, and though Emma knows he’s done nothing to deserve her frustration, she feels too tense to try to rein it in.

“Are we sure this is the best way to go?” It’s a mountain after all, and the prospect of hiking uphill, through thick forest, for days on end, does not sound the slightest bit appealing to her at the moment.

“It’s the surest way to the spaceliner,” he gives her quick nod and continues walking, not having caught on to the ire undertone in her voice. “And besides, it’s more of a giant hill than a mountain; we’ll be on the other side sooner than you think.”

His voice is so infuriatingly optimistic, and it does nothing to calm the frustration burning in Emma’s chest.

“And if we get lost?” she snaps, "And we’re stuck in there for weeks, then what?”

Killian’s eyes narrow at her tone, “We won’t get lost.”

“Oh, right, because you’re a lieutenant with amazing navigational skills,” she crosses her arms in front of her and watches as he clenches his jaw. “We’re on a strange planet Killian, this isn’t the ocean, and this isn’t home.”

“The principles are the same, Swan.” His voice is tight, controlled, but there’s an edge to it. “But if you think there’s a better way, by all means go ahead, I’m not going to force you to come with me.”

“Fine,” she spits through her teeth, “leave me half the supplies and I’ll make my own way, and perhaps I’ll see you at the spaceliner.” 

Killian flinches back ever so slightly, eyes blinking furiously for a second. He obviously wasn’t serious when he suggested they separate. But Emma glares at him until he shakes his head in frustration and throws the pack to the floor.

Running his hand through his hair in irritation, he divides their supplies, wraps it all in one of the blankets, and hands it to her stiffly.

“Fine,” he echoes back sharply, “go on then.”

Emma snatches the blanket of supplies out of his hand but she doesn’t move, she just continues to glare at him.

He stares just as hard back, unrelenting.

She knows there is no way he’s going to let her wander off into the wilderness alone, but it’s turned into this absurd battle of wills. A game of who’s going to give in first and she doesn’t intend to lose.

So with clenched fists she takes a deep breath, turns around and stalks off.

He doesn’t think she’ll actually go off on her own? Thinks she won’t last five minutes without crawling back?

_Just watch her._

-CS-

Killian drags his hand down his face in aggravation, completely bewildered at what has set off this little spat.

She’d been irritated, but he hadn’t exactly been the epitome of a calm, understanding, gentleman. Instead of trying to talk out what was upsetting her, he’d responded with petulance, and that had only escalated the situation.

But his own temper is already cooling off and he’s not sure if he should chase after her, or if that will only make everything worse.

He finally settles on continuing in the direction they’d originally been heading. But he keeps his pace slow enough so that she can catch up with him once her own anger has faded. She knows what direction he’s going, but he takes extra time to break off branches and scuff up the path so that she’ll be able to find him with ease.

It’s been two minutes since she’s left, and he’s already considering sitting down and waiting for her. She’ll come back, there’s no way she wants to risk the unknowns of this planet alone. She’ll come back and they will either talk about it, or act like it never happened, but either way he expects they’ll get at least a couple more miles in before they have to stop for the night and make camp.

Killian wasn’t anticipating just how anxious being separated from her would make him, especially now that they’re no longer in the open plains. He has no idea what type of creatures make home on this planet, or more specifically, this forest.

His mind is quick to come up with a hundred different scenarios where she’s either eaten or mauled to death. And it’s with these thoughts that he turns around and begins retracing his steps. He’ll find her and convince her that this little feud is not worth the danger of being apart

He’s hardly taken fifteen steps when he hears her, and it’s not what he expects. He’s not greeted with the sound of her muttering angrily as she makes her way back to him. No, what he hears instead makes his stomach drop and his heart stop.

_She’s screaming_.

“Bloody hell,” he growls, and before he has a chance to blink he’s sprinting after her. Branches flinging into his face as he hurtles past them, they cut at his arms and tear at his clothes but he scarcely notices them.

Images of finding her just seconds too late torture him, so he pushes himself to run faster, his muscles burning from the exertion.

Fortunately she hasn’t roamed off too far and within minutes he’s crashing into a small clearing, eyes searching for her fearfully.

She’s backed up at the edge of the clearing against the tree line, arms extended in front of her, and she’s opening and closing her hands in a strange manner. However, Killian is more concerned with what’s skulking towards her.

A large tawny cat, one that Killian has never seen the likes of before, is slowly making its way towards Emma.

 It’s all sinewy and sleek muscles that look powerful enough to overcome both of them with ease. And Killian watches in horror as the beast’s shoulders hunch and its head lowers, clearly preparing to pounce on his prey.

He doesn’t have a weapon, but he has to do _something_ to stop it, and his best option is to attack it before it attacks Emma. He takes a few quiet steps forward, hoping to jump on it and break its neck before its teeth can do too much damage to his own body. 

Emma ruins this plan, however, once she realizes what he intends to do. Her eyes snap to his and she shakes her head furiously, taking an unconscious step in his direction.

Feeling threatened by the sudden movement, the cat emits a low growl, bares its teeth and slinks even closer to Emma.

Helpless and desperately wanting to get the cat away from Emma, Killian picks up a rock, throws it at the beast, and whistles to get its attention. Consequences to himself be damned.

That cat turns to Killian snarling in anger before it shifts its weight onto its hind legs and launches itself towards him. In that brief moment before it reaches him, Killian only has one thought repeating incessantly in his mind.

_Break its neck._

_Break its neck_ and hopefully not die in the process. _Break its neck_ so that if something does happen to him, Emma can get away. _Break its neck_ because it’s the only way he can think of to save Emma.

There is a sharp cry of “Killian!” and before the beast ever reaches him, it’s thrown to the side by a blinding rush of white light.

Slightly disoriented, Killian watches as the beast pulls itself up from the ground and dashes off back into the forest, clearly determining that the danger of obtaining its prey is no longer worth it.

He quickly turns his attention back to Emma; she’s standing with her hands stretched out in front of her, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“Emma,” he breathes out, he’s so relieved and all he wants to do is pull her in and hold her against his chest for the next hour, but instead he just gently grips her shoulders and looks into her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she whispers before he can even ask, “I’m okay.”

But her hands are trembling and her breathing is ragged. Killian feels shaky himself, so he runs his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to soothe them both.

“Are you sure?” he asks as he brings his hand up to cup her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. “It didn’t touch you?” and he rakes his eyes up and down her body as he speaks, checking for any injuries.

Emma simply shakes her head in response before closing her eyes to take a steadying breath.

Convinced that she’s not harmed Killian takes his own deep breath and feels the tightness in his chest disappear.

“Was that you?” he asks, referring to the blinding light that had struck the cat. He’s seen magic before, he just had no idea Emma had it. But when she looks up at him there is hesitance in her eyes.

 Killian resumes rubbing her arms, to encourage her, or comfort her, he’s not really sure but he knows that he’s not quite ready to let go of her yet.

“It was me, I have…” she bites her lip nervously for a second before continuing, “I have magic.”

She looks so uncertain as she says it, and Killian can’t help the smile that forms on his lips. What she just did was remarkable, and she deserves to know it. “Well you were bloody brilliant, amazing.”

“Really? I’m not very good at it, and it usually happens sporadically, I often end up using it when I don’t want to, and have a hard time finding it when I do.”

“Well perhaps you just require a little more practice, love.” She’s no longer trembling, so Killian releases her. But he itches to take her hand, to somehow stay connected to her. With the sound of her scream still fresh in his mind, he wants nothing more than to feel her, to reassure himself that she’s safe.

“Maybe you’re right, this is the second time I’ve been able to use it exactly how I wanted to, the first was when the pod shut down.”

“See, Swan,” he says winking at her, “you’re a natural.”

Emma lowers her lashes briefly before meeting his gaze again, her cheeks slightly pink, and Killian’s stomach flutters at the action.

“I dropped my supplies a little ways back,” Emma takes a slight step away from him as she says this, “they shouldn’t be hard to find and then we can probably get another mile or so of walking in before sunset.”

“Let’s just hope there isn’t another wild creature scavenging through your ration bars when we get there, I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“What will you do if there is?” Emma smirks. “Throw a rock at it?”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I was about to defeat that beast with my bare hands!”

“Sure you were,” but she’s smiling and her green eyes are dancing with mirth.

 Which means it is Killian this time whose checks turn pink as he scratches at the back of his head.


	7. Chapter 7

Emma’s supplies aren’t difficult to locate since she’d dropped them just a little ways past the clearing in which the beast had cornered her in. From the looks of it, the cat had chased her back towards Killian, and he’s just grateful that it hadn’t been in the opposite direction.

If she’d run _away_ from him, he’s not sure he would have found her as quickly as he had. And though his dashing rescue ended up being unnecessary, his stomach plummets at the thought of what might have happened if he hadn’t reached her in time, or if things hadn’t played out as smoothly as they had.

But imagining what _could_ have happened is torture, so he tries to push the images from his mind as they collect the scattered belongings and store them away in his pack.

Neither of them says much as they begin hiking up the mountain again, the only sounds between them are the low pants from their labored breathing, and the crunch of the undergrowth beneath their feet.

_It’s been a long day._

Not only does Killian feel entirely drained, but he’s still on edge after their run in with the wild cat. 

His senses are on overdrive. Every noise made by a harmless animal in the bushes, every time a bird takes off from a branch above them, every time the forest makes any noise at all Killian tenses, eyes darting to the source of the disturbance.

More often than not that source is Emma, and it’s usually the sound of leaves springing free as she yanks at her dress. It keeps snagging on low hanging branches, in spite of her efforts to avoid them.

She can be a spitfire, it’s one of the things he’s noticed about her during their long hours trudging across this blasted planet. And it’s apparent now in the way she wrenches at her dress a little harder than necessary, practically staring daggers at the affronting shrubbery.

Killian has to bite back a smirk when she finally gathers the majority of her skirt in her arms and huffs in irritation.

Her dress, which was once beautiful in its elegance, is now faded, and tattered. Nothing compared to the grandeur it had once exuded. It’s now more peasant than princess. But Emma hadn’t cared about her shoes, and he doubts she cares about her dress.

She likely sees it as a nuisance more than anything else. 

But even with her worn-down, dirt-stained dress, she is still just as stunning as that first day he saw her. And more than once he catches himself staring at the way the setting sun reflects off her golden hair. Captivated at how whispers of that very hair will catch in the wind and settle softly between her lips, remaining there for the briefest of moments before delicate fingers reach up and tuck it safely away behind her ear.  

Eventually she catches his gaze and electricity zips up his spine before they both hastily break eye contact and look away. But she’s like a magnet, and Killian is nearly helpless to the way his sight seems to be drawn to her.

They lock eyes at least three more times before Emma finally breathes out an indignant, but slightly self-conscious, “What?”

It’s not as though he can tell her that he’d been admiring the way she looked in the sunset, so he settles on teasing her instead.

“Having troubles with your dress, Swan?”

“It keeps getting caught,” she sighs in exasperation. “Of all the things for me to be wearing before crash landing on some planet, this has got to be the most impractical. I’m about two seconds away from taking the damned thing off.”  

Her words are an obvious exaggeration, but Killian can’t pass up the opportunity to arch his eyebrows at her suggestively, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

Emma simply rolls her eyes in response, “Don’t even say it.”

Yet, despite her words there is lightness in her tone, her small smile suggesting that she’s not necessarily opposed to his playful antics.

“I have said nothing, love. I haven’t the slightest inkling as to what you’re referring too.” He says, feigning innocence. “Though, I cannot find it within myself to be opposed to something that would make your journey easier.”

“I’m sure,” she laughs, “but you know what would really make my journey easier? If we stopped for the day.”

Killian knows she’s right. It’s been a trying day and not just in the physical sense,  it may be earlier in the evening then when they usually retire, but he doesn’t think either of them can go much farther today. He doesn’t even have to think twice about it before he’s nodding his head once in agreement and telling her they’ll stop the second they find a suitable place to rest for the evening.

Within minutes they find an area that is both flat and open enough to make camp. Together they gather kindling to make the fire, and Killian uses that time to check the area surrounding them for footprints that might indicate another large and dangerous animal.

Perhaps he’s being paranoid, but he’d rather spend a few extra moments and check their surroundings than sacrifice his peace of mind.

Once he’s satisfied that there aren’t any tracks nearby, and the fire is blazing high enough he pulls the blankets from his bag and begins to make his bed for the evening. He suspects that it’ll get colder up here in the mountains, so he situates himself as close to the fire as he reasonably can.

He’d suggest to Emma that, with the likelihood of the dropping temperature, it would be best to sleep next to one another. But he knows what her answer will be.

So he’s not surprised when, just like she has every night, Emma takes her blanket and lies down on the opposite side of the fire.        

-CS-

That night is the _worst_ night’s sleep Emma has experienced since they’ve been here. It’s bitter cold and she gets up at least three times to stoke the fire and make the flames burn higher. Too soon the sun is rising and Killian is waking, and she is _not_ ready to be up for the day.

Hoping to prolong the moment before she has to officially awaken, she pulls the blanket higher until it covers half her face, keeps her eyes shut and pretends to be asleep. This way if Killian wanders over and sees her, then he might not start closing down their little camp, which means she won’t have to start walking yet.

But at some point pretending to be asleep, turns into actual sleeping, the added heat from the sun helping to thaw and relax her frigid muscles. By the time she opens her eyes again the sun is significantly higher in the sky.

A quick look around the camp shows her that Killian is lounging with his back against a tree, a long stick in one hand and tracing non-distinct patterns into the dirt.

Feeling stiff and cramped, Emma reaches her hands above her head and stretches, lengthening out all the way down to her toes, before sitting up and catching Kilian’s eye.

“What time is it?”

He looks up at the sky, shrugs nonchalantly and replies, “Late morning or early afternoon would be my guess.”

She stares at him, mouth falling open slightly and then looks up to see for herself. Sure enough the sun is closer to mid sky than it is to the horizon, and she can’t believe she slept that long.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asks.

His eyes lock with hers and there is a tenderness there that makes Emma’s heart somehow stutter and melt at the same time.

“You were tired,” he answers plainly, but with an utter sincerity that catches her off guard.

 “I-I was, thank you,” and she’s helpless to the way her eyelashes flutter as she says this. She doesn’t know why his kindness is having such an effect on her. It’s not like it’s a surprise, he’s shown genuine concern for her wellbeing more times than she can count.

But his warmth, his _affection_ , is not something she’s received from a man in a long time.

Though if she thinks about it too hard, she’s not sure she’s ever really had it in the first place. But _that_ is a forbidden train of thought, and she pushes it away instantly.

She’d sworn to herself that never again would she let someone in like she had with Neal. That she was better off, content even, being alone. But Killian makes her stomach dance with butterflies, and her heart race. Whether it’s his teasing smirks or his warm smiles, she finds herself drawn to him. Like being with him, being near him, relieves an ache she never even knew was there.

In the week or so that she’s known him he’s managed to slip under the gates she’s placed so meticulously around her heart. And normally at this point she would be panicking, _but she’s not._ And she’s a little unsure of what to do with herself now that she feels no desperate need to run.

And maybe the next step is to simply not take a next step. 

To let whatever happens, _happen._

It’s a scary thought, but it doesn’t make her as anxious as she would expect it to.  In fact, it almost makes her breathe a little easier, this acknowledgement that she won’t push away whatever happens between her and Lieutenant Jones.

And in the hours she spends monotonously placing one foot in front of the other; it’s all she can think about.

* * *

Their late start means that they don’t travel as far as they have been in the past few days. But it’s a welcome respite and Emma finds the slight break from their normal routine refreshing.

The area they stop at for the evening is easily the most beautiful place they’ve been too since they started this whole journey. It’s a small clearing encircled by trees and covered in soft grass and small flowers that sway gently in the light breeze. They have an unobstructed view of the sky above them, and a sweet aroma weaves in soft tangles with the air.

Emma closes her eyes and inhales until her lungs are filled with the honeyed fragrance, releasing the air in a contented sigh. She has spent her days dealing with harsh undergrowth and sharp branches, and then spent her nights sleeping on unforgiving, rock imbedded floors. This meadow looks absolutely heavenly in comparison. A pocket of perfection tucked secretly away in the mountain’s depths.

The comfort and luxury of the soft grass means that they have to spend extra time prepping the ground for their fire. Clearing a spot free of grass and making sure it’s wide enough so that no sparks set off a wildfire while they’re sleeping. But Emma would do this little piece of extra work every night if it meant her bed could be even the tiniest bit softer.

She’s so caught up in the pleasant atmosphere that she’s caught off guard when Killian is suddenly handing over her blanket for the evening. Her eyes flick between the blanket and his face several times before she takes it from his hands.

This _blanket_ has put an abrupt halt on her thoughts of a warm and pleasant night. It’s a stark reminder that it’s time for her to do what she does every night and make her bed on the opposite side of the flames.  

But it had been so dreadfully cold the night before, and she hadn’t gotten any decent sleep until the sun had risen into the sky. She suspects that tonight will be much of the same, now that they’re higher up in the mountains, the nights are only going to get colder.

She just wants to be warm, she wants to sleep through the night and not wake until the sky is bright with sunrise. And maybe a small part of her simply wants to give in and sleep next to Killian.

Hadn’t she just accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to push Killian away? And insisting on unreasonably sleeping on the opposite side of the fire would do just that.

She continues to stare at her blanket, eyes occasionally wandering to look at Killian who is already in his own makeshift bed, and then drifting over to study where she normally settles for the night.

Taking a deep breath, she makes up her mind and strides confidently over to Killian, spreads out her blanket, and lies down next to him before he has a chance to say anything.

“Hi,” she mutters, feeling slightly self-conscious that she’d just sauntered over and practically thrown herself on the ground next to him without any preamble.  

“Hi,” his own greeting is laced with surprise and a hint of unmistakable delight.

“I don’t want to be cold,” she feels a need to explain herself, to give some reason as to why she’s suddenly broken her unspoken rule and made her bed next to his.

“Of course, Swan.”

She appreciates that he’s taking her lead and not making a big deal out of this. Though he can’t seem to help the way the corners of his mouth tug upwards, or the way his eyes light up as they crinkle at the edges.

His happiness is infectious, and she finds herself giving him a small smile in return before turning over onto her side, and closing her eyes.

Even with her eyes shut, she’s intensely aware of his presence next to her. The space between them is charged with a warmth that seeps into her skin, and she swears she can feel the air stir with every quiet breath he takes.     

So in spite of her best efforts she remains wide awake, her senses sparking and her mind racing. She’s unsure of how long she lies there, facing away from Killian, eyes gazing at nothing in particular. It feels like hours, but is probably only minutes before she finally gives up on finding sleep anytime soon and flips over onto her back. 

She glances over at Killian, and finds that he’s got one arm behind his head and the other resting across his stomach, his face relaxed as he stares up at the night sky serenely.

“You like looking at the stars don’t you?” Emma asks, eyes studying his profile.

He doesn’t answer right away, lost in his own thoughts, but when he does turn his attention to her, his eyebrow is arched in a polite question, a soft “Hmm?” coming from his lips.

“The stars,” she repeats, turning her own focus heavenwards, “you enjoy looking at them.”

“Aye, I do.”

They lie in peaceful silence for a moment, both gazing at the twinkling lights above them. The sight is breathtaking, and Emma’s never seen a night so clear, so _calm_. It’s like the stars have wrapped around them, enchanting them as they glimmer and blink from millions of miles away.  

She’s been up among those stars countless times, traveled past them without a second thought. Never before has she been quite as mesmerized by them as she is right now, and never before has she’s found herself appreciating them quite as much as she does right here, lying next to a man who looks at them as though they have every story in the world to tell him.

“My brother he—“ Killian swallows thickly and Emma turns her head to look at him, eyes tracing over his strong features, “he used to take me out at night when we were younger, and he’d spend hours teaching me about them, he knew every constellation.”

A soft smile graces his lips, but there is a distinct sadness in his eyes.

And watching him stare at the night sky with such fondness, but such _longing,_ makes Emma think that perhaps this brother is one of the reasons he seems to know so much about loss.

“Being out at sea,” he continues in a low voice, “most sailors are familiar with the stars; we rely on them for navigation. But for me…they’ve always just meant a little _more._ I-I can feel him when I look at them, and it brings me solace knowing that even though he’s gone, I can still feel connected to him.”

Emma shifts a little closer to him, their shoulders brushing. She wants to comfort him, but she’s unsure of how, so she settles for being nearer to him, hoping her presence is enough.

“What was his name?” she asks softly.

“Liam,” his smile widens and some of the sadness leaves his eyes. “He would have loved being on this planet.”

“He would have loved being stranded and then almost eaten alive by giant cats?”

Killian chuckles and finally turns to look at her, the light from the fire reflecting in his blue eyes. “Perhaps not,” he concedes, “but he would have loved the chance to see the stars. They’re completely different than the ones at home, a whole new night sky to learn.”

“And what have you learned?” she asks, and Killian practically beams at her before he looks up at the sky pointing at a star to their left.

“Alright, Swan, you see that bright one? With two little stars below it? It’s always on the same side of the sky as where the sun sets. Not that we ever travel at night, but if we did, that star would lead us to the west _.”_   

And he’s just, so _passionate,_ as he shares what he’s discovered, and Emma finds herself watching him just as much as she’s watching the stars.

“And if you look diagonally up from that star, you’ll see a group of stars that make up a sort of cross. We have one similar at home and it shares your namesake, _Cygnus,_ or _Swan._ ”

“But it’s smaller,” Emma muses, feeling more lighthearted than she has in a long time, “so we should call it a _duckling_ , or something.”

“Well,” Killian laughs, “they’re actually called cygnets, but I rather like _duckling_.”

Emma rolls her eyes at his amusement, but then gestures to a group of stars on the right, “What about that one?”

“Those?” Killian asks, pointing at the sky to make sure he is looking at the right ones. But he’s indicating a little too far to the right so Emma reaches up and places her hand over his, guiding it until he’s pointing to the constellation in question.

His breath catches softly when her fingers continue to linger around his hand longer than necessary and Emma drops her hand quickly to her stomach, her skin tingling from the contact.

“I haven’t actually determined what those stars look like yet,” his voice is suddenly breathier, almost a whisper.  “Any ideas, Swan?” and he lowers his own arm as he says this, his elbow brushing lightly against her hip.

And even though it is the slightest of touches, it’s as though every nerve ending in her body has decided to zero in on that one point of contact. And for a moment she’s more aware of the feel of his elbow against her than she is of anything else.

“Uh,” she has to swallow and clear her throat before she feels like she has control enough of her own voice to continue. “I don’t know…a fish?”

Killian doesn’t respond right away, he just tilts his head as though changing the angle he looks at it will alter its appearance. “A fish, eh?”

It’s when he presses his lips together and scrunches his eyes as though in deep thought, that Emma realizes he’s messing with her. She lightly smacks his chest with the back of her hand in retaliation, and he chuckles low and soft in response.

“Alright, Swan. A fish it shall be then.”

Their conversation fades away, but they continue to gaze up at the stars side by side. The silence between them isn’t awkward or tense. Instead it is surprisingly comfortable, almost _peaceful_ in a way.

And soon, the heat of the fire and the warmth of Killian beside her start to lull Emma towards sleep.  Her eyelids too heavy to keep open much longer, she gives in and lets her eyes fall closed.

And in that brief moment before she slips completely into that tranquil oblivion which is sleep, she hears a soft whisper of “Goodnight, Emma” breathed against her hair.

It’s the best night’s sleep she’s had in days.


	8. Chapter 8

Killian has always been one to wake with the sun, and the habit has only magnified with sleeping out in the open air. He can feel the heat and light from the sun pressing on his eyelids, entreating him to get up and greet the day. But there is a second source of warmth pressed lightly against his side that has him uncharacteristically wanting to keep his eyes closed and sleep the morning away.

Emma is still sound asleep next to him, tucked closely enough to his side that they aren’t quite tangled together, but her hand does rest softly atop his chest. He knows he should get up before she wakes and realizes their physical proximity. It has taken her so long to concede and sleep next to him, and the last thing he wants is for her to distance herself again simply because she huddled into him during the night. 

He allows himself a few more quiet moments before he deftly withdraws himself from beneath the blankets and away from the warmth of Emma’s skin.

She probably won’t wake for another hour, so he occupies his time wandering the clearing and testing the edibility of a patch of berries he finds growing on several bushes throughout the clearing.

They’ve used up about half of their ration bars, and he figures they ought to start supplementing their diet with other things to make them last longer. Not to mention that the dry taste is growing tiresome and anything else at this point would be a luxury.

It takes a while, but once he’s assured that the black berries are safe to eat he gathers as many as he can and makes his way back over to Emma.

She’s awake when he gets there, sitting cross-legged while she folds the blankets. She gives him a curious look when he flattens out his pack and places the berries on top. Killian simply winks at her and then pops one into his mouth.

Emma raises her brow at him skeptically. “How do you know those are safe to eat?”

“I tested them.”

“You tested them?” she echoes back, “And how exactly did you do that?”  Despite her initial cynicism her voice is underlined with traces of curiosity and eagerness, probably just as sick of the bland ration bars as he is.

“The color is the first clue, Swan,” Killian places another berry on his tongue and swallows it. His stomach clenching pleasantly at the way Emma’s eyes flick down to stare at his mouth before she makes eye contact with him again. “I don’t know what rules govern this world, but back in our realm berries that are blue or black are usually safe. Then it’s a long process of testing it on your skin.”

“Will you show me?” she asks as she grabs a berry for herself and stands up to face him, “I’d like to know how in case I need to do it in the future."

She clearly wants to learn how to do this for herself, and he admires her desire to be able to look after herself, to not have to rely on anyone else to tell her what she can and cannot eat. 

“Alright, love,” he smiles down at her before taking a step forward so that they are barely a foot apart. “You never want to eat the berries outright, even if you think you know which ones they are, it’s better to be safe.”

She’s given him her rapt attention, eyes trained steadily on the berry in her hand. “Okay, so how do I test it?” and her eyes flick up to his as she says this, wide and curious.

“Well there are several tests that have to be done before it can be deemed safe to eat. The first is on the skin, you’ll need to split the berry in half and then rub some of the juices on the inside of your arm.”

Her small fingers do exactly as he instructs, gently tearing the fragile berry apart before rubbing it against the inside of her wrist. He finds the dark stain it leaves against her light skin far more mesmerizing than he probably should, and has to shake his head slightly to focus his attention when Emma looks up at him expectantly.

“Now what?” she asks.

“Now you would wait a few minutes. The skin on the inside of the wrist is delicate enough that you’ll notice any adverse reactions sooner.”

“What exactly are we looking for?” and she brings her arm up closer to her eyes as she asks this, scrutinizing her skin for any changes.

“Well,” he muses, and gently takes her hand so that he can pull it down slightly, affording him view of her forearm. “We’re looking for irritation of any sort, such as redness or swelling. Also if there is any itching, burning, or numbing then that means the berry is too dangerous to eat.”

She’s hasn’t withdrawn her hand, and Killian has to fight the urge to trace his thumb across her silky skin. The way she is biting her lips isn’t helping his self-control, and he reluctantly releases her hand before he does anything stupid.

“Alright, no irritation so far… that’s good right?”

“It’s great,” he laughs, “but you would need to wait at least ten minutes before proceeding to the next step.  Patience is quite literally vital as you do this.”

They don’t wait the entire designated time, as Killian has already tested these berries, but they wait long enough that Emma knows what she’s looking for, and her excitement is obvious as she takes the berry and asks him what their next step is. She must really detest those ration bars.

“Next,” he smiles, “we do the same thing to your lips, and wait to see if you have a reaction to it.”

Emma doesn’t say a word as she takes the berry and slowly smears it across her bottom lip. Killian’s heart stumbles and he begins to wonder what the bloody hell he’s gotten himself into. He can’t seem to be able to look away from her mouth, and he has to swallow thickly before he can force his eyes away from her lips.   

“Right. Good… uh…any burning? Numbing?”

She shakes her head. “No, none at all,” her own eyes glance at his lips before she smirks, apparently aware of what she’s just done.

_Minx._

“Good,” he scratches at the back of his head and then curses at himself for being so obviously flustered. “Then you would wait about the same amount of time and then test it on your tongue, and if you still have no reaction, then you can go ahead and eat one or two berries. You’ll need to wait quite a bit longer after this step, make sure you don’t feel any nausea, but afterwards we’ll know if the berries are safe to eat.”  

He doesn’t need much imagination to know what watching her test it on her tongue will do to him, so he quickly excuses himself with the pretext of getting everything ready to head out, and tries to calm the pounding of his heart.  


	9. Chapter 9

Emma watches with a smirk as Killian busies himself with taking down their small camp. She saw the way his eyes had lingered on her lips, and she’d be lying to herself if she said the attention hadn’t sent a thrill through her. 

She pops what remains of the berry into her mouth, not bothering to finish testing it, considering Killian has already done it himself.

She wishes that they didn’t have to leave the peacefulness of the meadow behind, wishes they could forget that they need to find rescue, wishes they could just stay and rest. But the sooner they make it to the spaceliner the better their chances are that they’ll find something in working order when they get there.

So it’s with a heavy sigh that Emma makes her way over to join Killian. They don’t have much, so taking down camp is easy. All that’s left out are the neatly folded blankets. She grabs them and then scoops up the remaining berries from their place on the pack, and gracelessly shoves the blankets inside it one handed.

Standing she turns to Killian, who has just finished stamping out the fire, and reaches out her hand to offer him some of the delicate fruit. The corners of his lips lift as he takes a few from her open palm.

“How close do you think we are to the spaceliner?” Emma asks as Killian slings the pack over his shoulder and they leave the quiet meadow behind. It’s been a while since they have had to trek uphill, and she can only assume that their time in the mountain is almost at an end.

Killian doesn’t answer right away, scratching his fingers across his scruff as he considers her question seriously.

“I think it’s safe to assume that we have at least one more night on the mountain,” he finally muses. “Traveling down the mountainside will be much quicker, and then from there I have no idea how far away we’ll be.”

Emma simply nods in response and lets silence settle between them.

The air is humming again, causing her skin to tingle, but it’s such a regular occurrence now that Emma hardly acknowledges it. She takes it in stride as some part of the planet that, for some reason, Killian doesn’t notice. But it does make her wonder if the way the air seems to sporadically drone has something to do with why _The Swan_ suddenly malfunctioned so catastrophically.

If perhaps the humming has to do with some power, or some force that ripped _The Swan_ from hyperspace.

Her memory conjures flashes of the spaceliner plummeting hopelessly to the surface, and though she knows making it to the spaceliner is their best option for rescue, the thought of seeing the destruction and tragedy up close makes her heart constrict and her eyes burn.

“What do you think the state of things will be when we get there?” her words come out brittle, the distress of her thoughts evident in her voice.

“It’ll be bad,” Killian responds, holding a branch up so that she can pass under it easily. “But I’ve given it some thought, and I think as long as we stick to searching the lower maintenance levels, we’ll hopefully avoid most of the…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, but he doesn’t have too. Emma knows exactly what they’ll hope to avoid.

“Right,” she mutters somberly.

But she doesn’t want to dwell on this, so she asks Killian to tell her about his navy days. And sensing her need to lighten the atmosphere, he tells her stories of a bumbling crewman named Smee that has her laughing until she can’t breathe and forgetting about the dismal wreckage that awaits them. 

* * *

It is barely past midday when Emma feels the first drop of rain splatter against the back of her hand, cold and unexpected, accompanied a few seconds later by a soft splash against her cheekbone. And it doesn’t take long before the random drops of rain turns into a light but constant drizzle, and it feels more like a mist than anything else.

Emma’s always loved the rain, so it’s with a gentle smile that she turns her face heavenward and lets the cold pinpricks of water pepper her skin.

“We should try to find some shelter.”

Killian’s voice pulls her from her reverie and Emma turns to find him with his brow furrowed as he looks off into the distance.

She laughs lightly at how serious he looks and takes a couple of steps closer to him. “It’s just a little rain.”

“Aye,” he consents, “but by the looks of those clouds, we’re not too far off from a downpour.”

And sure enough when she turns too look, off in the distance the clouds are ominous and black. She would ask how he knows that the storm is heading their way, but as a lieutenant she assumes he has enough practice reading the skies to know such a thing.

“Scared of getting wet?”

“Hardly, love,” he laughs, “but considering all you have to keep you warm is that rather thin dress of yours, I suggest we not get it too wet.”

His eyes rake over her as he says this and Emma feels heat rise to her cheeks, even if his gaze had been nothing more than a practical assessment.

But Killian notices her reaction and a sly smile spreads across his features. “And as lovely as I’m sure you’d look with your dress clinging to your skin,” he winks at her and her blush deepens, “I’d rather you not catch your death from a little rainstorm.”

Underneath his flirtations there is real concern, and she’s touched that her welfare and whether or not she’s _cold_ is something he would care about. And it’s silly and she feels like berating herself for being so affected, because wanting someone to avoid getting soaked to the bone is _not_ some big gesture of affection. But she’s helpless to the way warmth floods her chest at his words.

And maybe it’s a culmination of being on this planet with him every day, of every teasing smirk, of every time he’s cursed in frustration, and every gentle act of consideration. But she’s having a harder time ignoring her feelings for him, and without consciously realizing it she finds herself stepping forward, practically swaying into him.

She’s close enough to breathe in his exhale and watch as a drop of rain clings to his dark lashes, refusing to fall until he blinks it away.

He doesn’t say anything about her sudden invasion of his space, but his eyes trace her features cautiously, almost hesitant, as though trying to decipher her intentions. But she’s too distracted by the slight part of his lips to give him a chance to figure it out.  Instead she grips the front of his shirt and pulls him forward, capturing his lips with hers.

He releases a grunt of surprise and freezes for half of a heartbeat before he melts into the kiss. His arm wrapping around her waist and hauling her tightly against him.

Emma’s breath escapes in a sigh, her lips parting from his for the briefest moment before she continues the kiss with just as much fervor, still clutching at his shirt as her other hand finds its way to his hair, slightly damp from the rain, and tugs at it gently. Her blood burning at the way his fingertips skim across her cheekbone before threading through her hair.

And all she is aware of in this moment is Killian. His lips, his hands, the feel of him against her, and the way he seems just as completely and utterly consumed as she is.

Eventually they separate, chests heaving and foreheads pressed together. Emma opens her eyes in a daze and loosens her grip on his shirt, but doesn’t quite let go.

“Emma…” he whispers, his nose brushing against hers lightly. Her already racing heart quickens at the way he breathes out her name in a caress. She presses one more kiss gently to his lips, this one softer and slower than the first, before she releases him completely and puts some distance between them.

The tenderness in his eyes is not something she was expecting, and it scares her just a little bit. But she swallows thickly and tries to fight down the flight instinct that’s threatening to take over.

 She’s not quite sure what came over her, or why she kissed him so unexpectedly like that. She just needs to clear her head, calm her racing heart. So she takes a few more steps backwards, her eyes glued to his the whole time.

“I’m just—“ she looks over her shoulder and then gestures vaguely to her right, “I’m just going to go see if there is anything over here that we can take shelter in.”

She tears her eyes from his, turning away and heading in the direction she’d indicated, taking a shaky breath as she does so.

-CS-

Killian stands frozen as he watches Emma disappear through the trees. All he can do is stare after her and run his fingertips across his bottom lip. He can almost still feel the way her mouth had moved against his, and _bloody hell_ could she kiss.

She’d caught him by surprise and he feels like his mind is still trying to catch up with what just happened.

He’s wanted to kiss her more times than he can count, but he’s been unsure of how she’s felt, and he hasn’t wanted to act upon his own feelings if it wasn’t something she would want.

But _she_ had kissed _him_ , and now it’s all he can think about.

It’s the rain picking up that finally pulls him from his thoughts. He runs his hand through his hair and scratches at the back of his head, grinning like an idiot, before he follows after her.

* * *

They have to backtrack a little ways before they finally find a small cave that will allow them to wait out the storm and stay dry. Killian does his best to find dry branches and leaves to use as kindling. They’re both slightly damp and even a small fire sounds heavenly.

The fire takes a little longer than usual to stoke to life, and Killian finds his eyes periodically wandering to look at Emma while he pokes and prods at the small embers. She’s sitting with her back against the rock wall, arms wrapped snuggly around her knees as she stares at nothing in particular. He can practically see her brain working, and he finds himself chewing on his lip, desperate to know what she’s thinking.

When the flames are finally high enough for his satisfaction he maneuvers over and settles himself down beside Emma.

“Care to share what has you so deep in thought, Swan?”

“I want to apologize.”

Her eyes are so earnest when she looks at him, but Killian is too stunned to do anything but blink at her. An apology is definitely _not_ what he expected her to want to talk about.

“An apology? You have nothing to be sorry for—I kissed you back after all.” He looks down and fidgets with his hands. She regrets their kiss and he feels like a bloody fool for thinking anything different.

“No—no you misunderstood,” she quickly amends. “I’m not sorry that I kissed you.”

“Oh?” He raises both eyebrows at her, a smile forming on his lips, and hope burgeoning in his chest.

“No, I want to apologize for the way I treated you when we were on _The Swan._ I lied when I said I wasn’t interested, I was scared and I needed to push you away, and I thought if you disliked me it would make things easier. So I acted cold with the hope that you’d lose interest.

She takes a shaky breath, and he can tell she still as more to say so he remains silent, simply watching her as she smooths her palms against her thighs and stares intently into the fire.

“You see, it’s been awhile since I—well I’m not really good at letting people in because—“

She’s struggling to find the words, and Killian’s not sure what she’s trying to tell him, but he can see that whatever it is has brought echoes of a deep pain behind her eyes.

“Swan, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain.”

“No, I want to,” she counters, her eyes looking back and forth between his own. “But will you just listen—let me get through it before you say anything?”

Her voice is uncertain, but it’s the most open he’s ever seen her, so he simply nods his head and waits for her to continue.

She turns her gaze back to the flames, and her voice is almost drowned out by the heavy rain pounding the earth outside their small enclosure.

“My parents are, for a very good reason, extremely protective of me. But when I was younger I resented it and would often sneak out of the castle and stay away for days before returning.”

She smiles softly at the memory, and Killian can just picture a younger Emma, stubborn as she is, sneaking out at the dead of night, contradicting every mold a princess is supposed to fit in to. 

“On one of these occasions I met Neal, he was a thief and I grew to enjoy the recklessness at which he approached life, and I loved the freedom I felt when I was with him, and we—“ she swallows thickly, “we became very close.”

Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this doesn’t end well. Killian’s heart aches for her, and he has to quell the urge to reach out and gather her into his chest. He promised to let her finish, so he says nothing as she tips her head back against the wall to stare at the ceiling.

She hasn’t looked at him since she started her tale, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off her.

“I finally told him I loved him,” she continues in a whisper, “and he came up with this grand plan to run away together, to start a life somewhere where it would be just him and me, and I was naïve enough to believe that was possible. I went home that night and gathered enough supplies to last a few days, and enough money to keep us happy for the rest of our lives.”

She closes her eyes at the memory and a lone tear slides down her cheek.

“Not a day later I woke up and he was gone—and so was everything else. The money, the supplies, he took it all at left me alone in the middle of nowhere. I was shattered.” Her voice breaks on the last word and Killian’s gut wrenches at the sound.

“I loved him and I thought he—“ her breath comes out in a shallow burst, and her eyes finally make contact with Killian’s. “I’ve always wondered what I could’ve done, or why exactly I wasn’t enough.”

Killian clenches his fist, rage at the man who made her feel this way filling him.

“He was a fool and a coward,” he spits out, “and you deserve so much more.”

She swallows, eyes wide and uncertain. “You think so?”

“Aye, and any man who can’t see that should not be given your attention.”

She smiles sadly at him and his heart breaks just a little more. He wants to show her that this _Neal_ was a con—that loving someone doesn’t inevitably lead to pain.

He reaches his hand up and brushes away a stray tear from face, her breath catching as he does so. And suddenly the urge to kiss her again is overwhelming.

He bends his head down and softly brushes his lips against hers. She responds immediately, leaning in to press herself closer to him. She teases at his lower lip with her teeth and he groans before taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

He’s lost to time, drinking her in, the rain outside creating a constant melody as he kisses her until his heart soars and his soul sings.

When they pull apart her eyes are dancing, shinning brighter than he’s ever seen them.

And this time when they pull the blankets out to make their bed, she doesn’t sleep with her back to him and distance separating them. Instead she nestles into his side with her head on his chest and her arm thrown across his waist.

“Goodnight, Killian,” she hums.

He places a kiss against her hair and sighs. “Goodnight, Emma.”


	10. Chapter 10

Emma trudges open her heavy eyelids and finds the world around her bleary and disorienting. It’s too dark, and it takes her still sleep-muddled brain a few seconds to remember where she is.

She blinks and rubs at her eyes for a second to clear them, shifting her focus to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. The fire beside them is all but burnt out—smoky tendrils that snake up from blackened ashes the only indication that it had once been a source of heat. The mouth of the cave provides a frame for the world outside. A world which is still dripping from the after effects of last night’s rainstorm and looks miserably cold compared to the warmth she’s currently experiencing huddled up against Killian’s side.

Emma’s own body rises and falls with each gentle breath he takes and she’s completely convinced that she would be content to spend the entire day lying here in his arms.

It’s unusual for her to wake before him, and so taking advantage of this rare moment she tilts her head to look up at him. His countenance is relaxed—probably lost in the peacefulness of some dream—face softened with sleep and his tousled dark hair falling gently against his brow. Her fingers itch to trace his features, and after a few moments of self-denial she gives in and skims her forefinger along the light scar across his cheekbone, her touch faint and tentative.

He shifts beneath her, mumbling something unintelligible and tightening his arm around her as he exhales. Resting both her head and hand back onto his chest she closes her eyes and soaks in the feeling of his strong body beneath her and the tickle of his breath against her hairline. She doesn’t quite fall back asleep, but she finds a peaceful lull in the rhythm of his breathing, and treasures the silence and the stillness of the morning.

It’s not long before he begins to stir beneath her, and lifting her head again she watches with a slight smile as he begins to rouse himself from sleep. Taking a sudden deep breath through his nose he stretches out his stiff limbs, arching his back away from the unforgiving ground, and slowly blinks his eyes open.

Her smile grows as he stares at her through half open lids, still drifting in the haze between sleep and wakefulness. “Hi,” she mutters, her soft whisper the only sound wafting through the damp air of the cavern.

He simply closes his eyes tighter in response. Mumbling something that sounds vaguely like “Let’s keep sleeping, Swan” and tugs her even closer to his chest.

Emma laughs, a bright sound that she might normally keep in check, but she’s feeling particularly light as she lies snuggled against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

In spite of his insistence to keep sleeping, he’s opening his eyes again a few minutes later, turning on his side to give her a lazy smile.

“Sleep well?” she asks, still amused at the way he’s still trying to shake the remnants of sleep.

 “Quite well,” he hums, his eyes tracing over her in such a way that makes her stomach swoop and her heart flutter.

“Good,” she replies simply. Fighting the urge to brush his messy hair from his forehead.

He doesn’t seem to have quite the same restraint though, as his fingers soon begin to trail light pathways up and down her spine. She shivers a little at his touch and almost rolls her eyes at the smirk he gives her when he notices.

As much as she would love to spend the entire day hiding away in this little cavern, they need to get going. They already lost quite a bit of time yesterday, having to stop in the middle of the day and backtrack once it started raining.

It’s with reluctance that she sits up, almost immediately regretting the loss of his warmth, but afraid that if she doesn’t she’ll end up wasting the day away lying in his arms.

“Anxious to leave already, Swan?” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. It’s apparent that he means his words to be light, but there is the tiniest hint of disappointment in his gaze.

It’s not hard to understand his feelings. Yes, their relationship has taken a definite shift, and she could easily drag out the moment before they leave this cave, could easily spend hours exploring whatever this is—lying next to him, talking with him, and perhaps even kissing him, but they can’t let any developing feelings distract them. Getting to the spaceliner and off the planet is still their top priority.

And lying back down to soak in his warmth and his touches in _not_ conductive to getting to the spaceliner.

_She might have to keep telling herself that._

“We’re almost out of ration bars,” she reasons, trying to convince herself as much as him, “and heaven knows we can’t live off of nothing but berries.”

“So we’ll start setting snares,” he shrugs, “and feast upon this planet’s finest creatures.”

“We still need to go.”

He watches her for a moment, and Emma meets his gaze head on, not sure what he’s thinking or what he’s trying to figure out. Eventually he sighs, shaking his head slightly as he looks away from her. “As the lady wishes,” he accedes, grunting as he pulls himself to standing, running a hand through his mussed locks in an effort to tame them.

Killian grows quiet after that, keeping to himself as he ties his shoes and chews on a bland ration bar.

“Swan?” he finally mutters, just as they’re about to leave.  

Emma turns to him, confused by the uncertainty in his voice.

“Listen…about yesterday,  I don’t want you to feel like anything has to change between us…I mean only if you want, but if you—“

Emma places a soft but thorough kiss against his lips, effectively cutting off his rambling. Somewhere in her eagerness to leave he must have assumed it was in order to avoid the tentative step they took in their relationship last night.

But she doesn’t regret it, and that’s the last thing she wants him to think. So she tries to pour all that she’s feeling into this one kiss—tries to make him see that she _is_ open to this, whatever _this_ is. That she wants it, wants _him_.

It seems to do the trick though, as she’s greeted with a ridiculous grin when she pulls away.

-CS-

They spend two more nights within the mountains. It’s longer than Killian had anticipated, but after the rainstorm and the time they lost, he knew their time in the mountain would be extended.

 Not that he’s minded. Ever since they kissed Emma has been more open, and with each day that passes she becomes less restricted in the amount of affection she exhibits. And he loves this. Loves being able to run a thumb across her cheekbone because he wants to, loves learning more about her, more about her family and her home.   

So yes, it’s taken them a day longer to reach the spaceliner, but he can’t bring himself to care.

It’s still morning when they finally reach the base of the mountain, the landscape changing to softer hills veiled in swaying grass.

For a while their trip across this new terrain is pleasant. The open space makes it easy for Emma to walk beside him, her delicate fingers threading with his own, and walking on relatively level ground is a relief he didn’t know he needed after spending days treading either up or downhill.

As the day wears on, the ease and comfort of being out of the mountain is soon overshadowed the closer they get to the spaceliner. The debris left by the crashing spaceliner is sparse at first, scattered pieces of metal a mere dusting across the hills. But soon enough what they’re walking through is a graveyard of steel, and the tombstones range from small clumps of metal no bigger than his arm, to massive towers that twist and loom above them.

_The Swan_ is a devastating sight, the grandeur and power the giant spaceliner once exuded is gone, crushed and burned like the pile of wreckage it now is. The front third of the ship looks like a knife has slit it open, the burned and blackened framework visible even from this distance. The nose of the ship is smashed, crushed from the force of its impact with the planet’s surface. A long trail of churned up soil streamlines behind it, a visible display of where the spaceliner landed and skidded to a halt—the trench it left behind is large enough to house a small village.

Despite the magnitude of _The Swan’_ s destruction not all of it was destroyed on impact—the back half or more of the ship looks, for the most part, relatively intact. Though that section of the spaceliner is not quite as burnt or crushed as the front, the stability of the latter half still remains to be seen.

Killian squeezes Emma’s hand, pulling her to a stop, but keeps his eyes fixated on the ruins in front of them. “We’re going to have to be extra cautious. We don’t know the intensity of the structural damage and one wrong step could be catastrophic—and we don’t have the medical supplies necessary to deal with any serious injuries.”

“Hey,” Emma soothes, and the feel of her gentle hand against the side of his face pulls him from his dark thoughts. He turns to her as her fingertips skim down his neck and over his shoulder; her touch is warm, leaving trails of delicious fire in their wake. “We’ll be careful. Everything will be fine.”

“Aye. But let’s stay alert, please?”

She nods in response, giving his hand another squeeze before pulling him forward so they can continue on towards the ship. 

“I say we keep to the lower maintenance and crew levels, that’s where we’ll find most of the technology and hopefully we’ll be able to locate a communications system.” Her tone is matter of fact, and it’s like when she led him to the escape pod at the start of all this, her knowledge of the spaceliner impressive.

“You know the ship well, don’t you?”

“Well, I have spent _a lot_ of time on it. My parents thought it was safer, considering some things going on at home, but I’m guessing their not all too fond of it anymore.”

“Oh?” he responds, lifting his eyebrow in question and hoping the open-endedness of his brief response will encourage her to elaborate on what she means by _safer._

She doesn’t however, either not understanding his query or choosing to ignore it she continues on about the structure of the ship. “I was hoping we’d have access to the communications center, which is at the bow of the ship. But—“ her eyes scan over the wreck, and she doesn’t have to continue. The bow, the very front of the spaceliner, is demolished, crushed on impact. “I’m sure we’ll still find a communications system.”

“I think it would be wise if we took the time to gather as many supplies as we can as well.”

“Of course,” she agrees, “that should all be within the lower levels as well, I don’t think we’ll have to venture up to any upper levels that’s mostly living and entertainment space for the…uh…passengers.” She says the last bit after swallowing thickly, her eyes downcast.

Killian runs soothing circles against the back of her hand in response, not sure what else to say. He knows how the image of death can haunt you, how it lingers with you far longer than invited. He’s never experienced it on quite this scale, but he’s experienced enough of it to know.

_And it’s not something he wishes for her to see._

He hopes, for her sake, that they can avoid the worst of it.

* * *

It turns out that finding a way inside the still intact portion of the spaceliner is harder than they thought. The parts of the hull that aren’t torn open and scorched, or crushed completely, are sealed off. The metals melted together creating an alloy that blocks them from entering. This is a good thing he hopes—maybe it means that whatever is inside will still be intact.

Which doesn’t even matter if they can’t get inside.

They work their way along the outside of the hull, searching for a way to get in. Nothing but silence accompanies them as they push and prod the spaceliner, in hopes of finding a weak point. The silence is unnerving and Killian is struck by the fact that there really seems to be no other survivors.

He’s not sure what he had been expecting, perhaps a small amount of people milling about the wreckage site, trying to survive just like they were. And maybe there were survivors and they’ve simply left—took what they needed and abandoned _The Swan_.  But from what he’s seen, there’s no one, the spaceliner is a tomb, the air around them hollow and empty of any life.

And as dismal as the situation is, he’s reminded that they were close to meeting the same fate. The pod had stopped working, and if it weren’t for Emma they wouldn’t have survived. If she hadn’t used her magic to tear their pod away from the ship, they never would have made it.

He can’t help but watch her as they walk. She bites her lip in concentration, green eyes wide as they scan the ship’s exterior. She’s dirtier, and a little more worn down than when he first met her in the stuffy atmosphere of that high-class party, but he finds her just as beautiful, and, if it’s even possible, he finds himself more enamored by her now than that first night she fluttered those pretty lashes at him.

Distracted as he is by the woman beside him, he still manages to find a break in the ship’s hull that lets them in. A pane of metal has buckled away from the rest of the spaceliner, leaving a small amount of space that, if they can wedge open, could become an entrance.

Without saying much they get to work, with hands gripping the edge of the opening they lean back, straining and panting as they try to make the gap larger.

The metal is moving, but at a pace too slow for the level of exertion their putting out. Killian is about to suggest they take a break, or try using her magic, but the thought is cut off when a searing pain slices across his palm. Wrenching his hand away from the metal he stumbles back, cursing.

“Bloody hell,” he gasps, gritting his teeth against the throbbing of his palm. He should have been more careful, heeded his own advice and paid more attention to what he was doing. An angry red line spans the width of his palm, and within seconds it’s bleeding. The blood flow is generous, furious and red. Killian tightens his other hand around his wrist in an effort to minimize the bleeding.  

“Killian, is everything—oh.” Emma’s quick to react, grabbing their pack and sifting through it as fast as she can. “Didn’t you think to pack a first-aid kit of some sort in this ‘survival pack’ of yours,” she huffs in irritation. Stressed by the amount of blood streaming from his hand.

“A small one. It’s at the bottom.”

The pain is bearable, the only cause of concern is that it’s _deep_ and it isn’t like they have much in terms of medical supplies.

“Okay, I found it. Let’s see your hand.”

He offers her is hand, and she holds his fingers gently while she pours more than half the contents of a tiny bottle of antiseptic over his palm. It stings, and Killian hisses at the pain.

“Baby,” she teases, but her brow furrows in concern as she places the gauze from the first aid kit against the cut and wraps the wound as best she can, with what little they have.

“There,” she says, kissing the tip of his fingers and then lifting up onto her toes to place a chaste kiss against his lips, “all better.”

“Much better, thank you, love,” he grins at her as she kneels down to pack away the near-empty first aid kit. Despite her best efforts, his wound begins to bleed through his bandage, but he’s not too worried.

It will be fine. Once the bleeding slows it can start clotting.  

Ignoring the way his palm now throbs in time with his heart beat, Killian focuses his attention back on the small opening. “Perhaps, we should try your magic,” he suggests, using his good hand to scratch at the back of his head.

Emma only shrugs in response, tilting her head to the side as she considers the gap. “Actually, I think I can fit through it.”

Killian doesn’t even have time to protest before she’s turning herself sideways and worming her way into the dark opening.

“Alright, but keep making sure that you can move backwards.” He’s anxious at the thought of her getting stuck, heart hammering at the off chance that she cuts herself on something and ends up with a wound more severe than his. Her legs disappear and he waits with his breath caught in his chest. “Swan?”

His call is met with a clash, and the bowed metal jolts as she kicks at it from the other side. She kicks at it several more times, the metal bending easier when the force comes from the inside, and soon enough the gap is big enough for Killian to fit through.

“Well, Lieutenant Jones,” Emma says as she steps back out from spaceliner. Playfulness dances in her eyes and her success has brought an elated grin to her lips, “I officially welcome you aboard _The Swan,_ vessel of your majesties the King and Queen of Misthaven. _”_

He shakes his head at her with fondness before giving her a quick wink. “Thank you, milady,” he smiles, inclining his head in her direction.

She has to bite her lip to keep from laughing, turning around she steps back into the spaceliner, and Killian follows her bright hair into the darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

It takes Killian’s eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of light, but once they do he realizes that it’s not as dark as he had expected it to be—at least not here at the periphery of the ship. Small cracks along the hull create scattered constellations of light that shine through in a dusting of daylight. It isn’t much, and it won’t do them much good the deeper they venture into the ship, but it’s enough to at least catch their bearings and figure out where they are.

Emma seems to be thinking along the same lines, her teeth dragging across her bottom lip as her eyes scan the hallway they’ve wandered into. Searching for anything familiar that can indicate what part of the spaceliner they’re in.

As she looks about, Killian returns his attention to his injured hand. It’s still bleeding more than he would like, and so he presses it against his stomach in hopes of helping it to slow down. Searing pain shoots across his palm and zips up to his elbow at the contact, and he has to clench his jaw to keep from grunting.

Inhaling deeply through his nose he looks up to see that Emma has roamed slightly away from him

“Emma?” he calls out to her. “Where do you suppose we are?”

“I think…” she pauses and turns to him, eyes flitting to his hand, and her brow furrowing in concern at the way he’s holding it against him. “I think we’re near the storage area, but I’m not entirely sure… It’s hard to tell from here.”

“Alright,” Killian tries to relax his stance a bit, but keeps his hand pressed to his stomach. “Nothing else to do except start looking. Though the lack of light once we wander past this point might prove a problem—think you could magic some light, love?”

Her only response is to blink furiously at him for a moment before giving her head a little shake. As though she’s surprised he would even consider that an option. “We should probably find something a little more reliable, my magic is spotty and unpredictable at best.”

Her self-doubt in her abilities isn’t surprising, she’s voiced them before. But he’s seen her magic, it’s saved them more than once, and he knows that all she requires is to perhaps use it a little more, become more comfortable with it. But he doesn’t even have a chance to state his belief in her abilities before she’s surging on ahead of him.

“There’s a hallway over here,” she calls over her shoulder, “I’m sure we can find a utility closet that will have a flashlight of some sort.”

She disappears from view and Killian has to take a few jogging steps to catch up with her. The hallway they enter is a long one, stretching on until all that is visible is a void of black nothingness. Doors line each side, but they’re hardly discernable, the light from the previous hallway already fading.  The first few doors they try are jammed shut and no amount of force will open them. Finally when a door does swing open it’s full of useless crates that have been knocked over, the contents thrown about the room. But nothing of value or use is within the mess, so they move on.

They’ve almost reached the edge of their visibility and Killian is beginning to doubt that they’ll ever stumble across this utility closet that Emma is hoping to find. So when the next door they open is exactly what they are looking for, Killian considers it heaven-sent.

Emma emits an excited little squeal of triumph before reaching in to rummage through the closet’s scattered contents, and Killian can’t help the soft chuckle that escapes his lips as he bends down to help her search.  

The closet is full of a bunch of tools, and various wires. Most of it is stuff they have no use for, but Killian stores what he thinks may prove helpful in the future into his pack.

It’s not until his arm is elbow deep in a box of tangled wires that he finds the object of their search. Wrapping his hand around its solid, rounded handle, Killian lifts it out and flicks the switch on with his thumb. Light instantly pierces the dark closet, allowing Killian full view of Emma’s elated smile.  

“Oh good,” she breathes out on a laugh. “To be honest I was afraid we’d end up stumbling around in the dark with no ability to actually do anything.”

“We’d have figured out,” he assures her. He would have carted around a heavy handmade torch for hours if it meant they could find the blasted communications system, and he could help get Emma home to her family.

“Yes, but this makes things so much easier.” She smiles and presses a quick kiss to his check before standing and stepping back out into the hallway.

She’s right though, the flashlight does make things easier. They no longer have to walk half blind to the next door, with hands skimming the walls until they come across a handle, which means they progress much quicker than before.

With the new convenience of having a light source they end up dividing the hallway between them, with Killian taking the doors on the left, while Emma checks the ones on the right.

It’s several minutes of useless room after useless room later when Emma calls out to him.

“What is it?” he asks, joining her at the door she’s just pushed open.

“Killian, look inside.”

He does as she asks, using the flashlight to light up what appears to be mounds of fabric. Sheets and clothes of every color litter the floor where they’ve fallen in heaps from their neatly folded place along the shelved walls.

“It’s a laundry room!” Her voice is a mix of relief and total delight as she takes the flashlight from Killian’s hand and begins digging through the piles of fabric. “I _hate_ this dress,” she continues while holding up a pair of pants, scrutinizing the size before tossing them back into the mess. “You have no idea how inconvenient, uncomfortable, cold, and absolutely _miserable_ this dress is.” 

“I can imagine,” he laughs, picking up and shaking out a dark blue shirt that’s about two sizes two small.

Placing the shirt back in its original spot, he looks up to discover that Emma is turned away from him and in the process of unzipping the back of her dress. The sight of smooth pale skin sends his ears burning at the same time that desire swoops low in his stomach. And _bloody hell_ he should look away—

But she hasn’t _said_ he couldn’t look—

“Turn around,” she instructs, looking over her shoulder at him, mischief sparkling in her eyes. 

He turns and looks away with a quiet groan that he’s sure only he can here. But Emma’s responding giggle is evidence that perhaps he was louder than he thought.

The sound of fabric sliding across skin is far too distracting, and it doesn’t help when in his periphery he catches sight of her dress being kicked across the room.

In an effort to think of something other than Emma’s likely current state of undress, he lifts his palm up to eye level to examine his injury. The bleeding has finally slowed, but the meager bandage that’s wrapped around it is soaked through and a deep red. But the bleeding slowing is _something_ and he chooses to take this as a good sign. The pain has subsided somewhat, but his entire hand still throbs in time with his heart, which is more annoying than anything.

“Alright, you can turn back around now.”

She directs the flashlight’s beam at her body so he can take a look at what she’s wearing. She’s standing barefoot in a simple pair of pants, and a shirt of deep purple, that even in the dull light of the flashlight he can see how it makes her eyes seem impossibly greener. And with the way her hair drapes across one shoulder, Killian is almost at a loss for words. But _perfection_ is the one word that does come to mind.

“You look lovely, Swan,” he manages to get out after a few moments of unashamed, slack-jawed admiration.

“Right,” she looks down smiling, and Killian can see the hints of pink coloring her cheeks, “They’re just a pair of pants.” She hands him the flashlight after deflecting his compliment, but her cheeks remain pink and she has to bite her lip to keep her smile at bay. “I’ll turn around so you can find something to wear.”

It doesn’t take him long to locate a pair of pants and shirt that are relatively his size, but it takes him a little longer to put them on with only the use of his uninjured hand. He tries using is other hand, but the sting when he bends his fingers doesn’t make the effort worth it.

He lets Emma know once he’s dressed and she makes her way over to him with a sheet she’s torn up into long strips.

“I think we need to redress your hand,” she explains as she places the strips she’s made over her shoulder and picks up his hand with a gentleness he appreciates. Considering even the smallest pressure sets his palm on fire.

She unwinds his blood soaked wrappings and winces once his gash is visible. “It looks like it stings.”

“Aye,” he hisses as she uses a random shirt to clean the blood from his hand. “I’ve had worse though.”

She’s meticulous and tender as she cleans his hand, trying her hardest to avoid actually coming in contact with the cut, but when she has to, she keeps her touch as light as possible. Once it’s clean she takes what’s left of the small bottle of antiseptic and pours it on his hand.

“We need to see if we can find more of this,” she muses and begins wrapping his hand with her makeshift bandages. “There’s a sick bay somewhere on this ship, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

When she’s finished only the tips of his fingers are visible, and he must admit the whole thing doesn’t look nearly as dire now that it’s wrapped in clean, fresh, bandages.

“Thank you, again, love.” He wraps his good hand around her back and pulls her against him. “Sure you’re not actually a doctor instead of a princess?”

She laughs—and it’s one of Killian’s favorite sounds. It means she’s happy. And her happiness, her smile, is quickly becoming one of his favorite sights.

“Hmmm,” she hums as though seriously considering his question. All the while running her hand up his arm and across his chest until she can curl her fingers inside the neck of his shirt, using it to tug him closer and press her forehead against his. “Perhaps I was one in another life.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees before capturing her bottom lip between his own. He kisses her slowly—as though just by the unhurried pace of his lips moving against hers, he could make the kiss last forever.

“We should be getting back,” Emma finally whispers against his lips. He feels them brush against his own as she speaks, as though she’s reluctant to put even an inch of space between them. “It’ll be dark soon, and we need to set up camp.”

He sighs, and then kisses her one more time before unwinding his arm from her waist and taking a step back.

Before they leave the find two large laundry bags and fill them with spare clothes and stacks of sheets they can use to make a proper bed. Once satisfied that they have enough they leave the laundry room behind and retrace their steps back to the opening in the hull, shoving their stuffed bags out first ahead of them.

They make their way back to a stream they passed earlier, one that is not too far from the spaceliner. Killian worries that the water might be contaminated from the wreckage but it’s the only water source for miles, and so they’ll just have to make it work. If they boil the water before they use it, then they should be fine.

Setting up camp proves a more difficult task than usual for Killian. He’s tries to keep his hand clean while setting up the fire, but the task proves unsuccessful. He gets a fire blazing but his hand is soon throbbing from the effort.

Emma works to make an elaborate bed, using more sheets than necessary to make it, and then keeping a few items of clothing in each bag to use as pillows. He would say it’s unnecessary, considering they’ve been sleeping on the ground for weeks, but any objections leave his mind the second he lies down. The softness of the blankets and the extra padding are absolute bliss, and the feeling only increases once Emma crawls in to lie next to him.

They spend a while looking at the stars and sharing whispered stories until Emma falls asleep with her head pillowed by his shoulder and her hand atop his chest. Sleep does not come as easy for him. The throbbing of his hand a disturbance that chases away any idea of falling asleep. He tries closing his eyes and focusing on the rhythm of Emma’s quiet breathing, hoping it can block out the stinging of his palm. But it’s not until the moon is well on its way towards leaving the sky that he finally relaxes into unconsciousness.


	12. Chapter 12

Emma knew the ship was huge, but for some reason she didn’t even consider how that would affect their search. But it becomes apparent just how time-consuming the task before them truly is once they begin exploring the spaceliner the next day. It’s been hours since they’ve started and they’ve barely scratched the surface of _The Swan_ ’s many levels, and hallways. It could take them _days_ to get through even a small section, and Emma hopes it won’t come to that—that they’ll be able to find what they’re looking for and never have to set foot in this steel encased tomb again. The cold, stiff air inside the spaceliner only adds to the feeling that they’ve willingly trapped themselves inside an endless, dark maze of evenly spaced doors that never seem to lead to what they need.

It’s a monotonous task, checking every single room, but she’s worried that if they don’t, they might skip over crucial supplies, or miss locating the communications system completely. So they keep with the very thorough, but very repetitive, undertaking of checking each room they pass.

Most of the rooms are in complete chaos—torn apart by the crash landing. Things are often smashed, useless, or near unrecognizable. But the supplies that they _can_ use, they take with them, at least the supplies that are deemed valuable and indispensable—and worth the extra weight.

Emma doesn’t notice it at first, but as the day drags on she begins to suspect that Killian is hiding his hand from her. It’s not surprising that it slipped her notice, considering she doesn’t think it was something he had been doing earlier that morning. Sure, it was obvious that it was hurting him—evident in the way he favored his right hand, or avoided using his left altogether—but it seemed to be no worse than it had the day before.

But now she is positive he is keeping it deliberately out of sight. Tucking it behind his back as they sift through fallen crates, or holding it in front of his body if she happens to step behind him. He tries to be casual about it, his movements subtle enough that if she wasn’t paying attention it would be indiscernible. But his hand and her body are like two opposing magnets—entirely incapable of being near each other, and compelled to move if the other is getting to close. Wherever she steps Killian simply adjusts his arm to keep it from her line of sight.

She nearly drives herself crazy testing this theory. She tries walking behind him, stepping in front of him, standing at his side—but no matter where she goes Killian keeps his hand hidden from her.

And maybe it’s because he doesn’t want her to think he’s weak and incapable, or maybe it’s because it’s hurting more then he’s letting on and he doesn’t want her to worry. Whatever his reason may be, it’s probably having the opposite effect of what he intended. Considering how it’s now the only thought spinning in her head, considering how the fact that she _can’t_ see it is making her worry more than if she _could_ , and considering how she’s now doing nothing but fretting over it—no, him hiding it is definitely _not_ making her worry less.

But if he notices her agitation he doesn’t acknowledge it. And it’s not until they are back at camp at the end of the day that Emma finally confronts him.

“Why are you hiding your hand from me?”

His look of faux confusion, eyebrows furrowing and head tilting to the side, would almost be comical if she wasn’t so on edge by the whole thing.

“Your hand.” she continues, her tone direct and clipped. “You’ve been purposefully keeping it out of sight for more than half the day.”

He sighs. “It’s fine, love. It stings a bit… but it will be fine. It just needs a couple days to heal is all.”

He offers her a small smile, but his eyes don’t reflect the reassurance of his words.

“Then let me see it.” She reaches out her hand, palm up, and waits for him to place his bandaged one in her own. He hesitates, eyes darting between her open palm and her eyes. This only increases the twist in her stomach, her instinct screaming that something must be wrong.

Finally with a clench of his jaw he concedes, lifting his sore and tender hand for her inspection.

The makeshift bandage is dirtied and he’ll need a new one anyway so Emma removes it. The area right around the cut is red, angry and swollen. It’s not a good sign, but it’s also not as bad as Emma had been imagining.

“Alright, let’s clean it and soak it in some warm water before we wrap it again.” She runs a hand through her hair, closing her eyes as she takes a calming breath. “But Killian, don’t hide it from me, okay? I want to be able to help you take care of it, and I can’t take care of it if I can’t see it.”

“Sorry, darling.” He reaches for her arm, sliding his good hand down it before threading his fingers with hers. “I just didn’t want to worry you, but I promise not to keep it from you again.”

“Good.” She states simply, before dragging him over to the stream so they can heat some water.

* * *

They head back for the spaceliner first thing in the morning and Emma can already tell that something is _wrong._ Killian isn’t his usual self; he’s slow and sluggish and hardly says a word. Emma has to slow her pace significantly so that he can keep up. But what worries her the most is the paleness of his skin, and the small patches of red that flush his cheeks.

Upon Emma’s insistence they stop when it’s only late morning, taking a break in some sort of technology lab to split a ration bar. Killian leans heavily against an upright table and mutters a quiet thank you when she hands him the bigger half.

“Killian? Why don’t we stop? We haven’t really had a rest day and we can get by on the ration bars we have for at least one more day as long as we find something outside to supplement it with.”

It takes him a moment to respond, his eyes taking longer to focus, as though he’s lost in some sort of haze. Emma’s heart drops to her stomach and she feels the sharp sting of worry fill her chest.

“No.” He shakes his head, and uses the heel of his hand to rub at his temple before running his fingers through his already disheveled hair.

“Killian,” she admonishes. “Finding more food supplies is not what is important right now. You need rest, and I’m not going to let—“

“No! We need to keep looking.” His voice is sharp despite his exhaustion, his jaw clenched in determination despite his clear lack of strength. And Emma is about to argue back when her eyes are drawn to Killian’s hands. He’s tugging on the bandages as though doing so is going to offer him the relief he seeks. 

Emma’s eyes widen as she gets her first good look at his hand since last night. Somehow in the span of time between when she redressed it and now, its condition has only worsened. His fingers hang useless from his wrist, stiff and swollen, and the rest of him isn’t fairing much better. It’s like his body weight is suddenly too much for him to hold upright—his shoulders hunch slightly forward, and his entire being looks as though it’s being pulled down by twice the gravity. He looks feverish, and he’s sweating despite the cold air of the spaceliner.

Understanding suddenly floods Emma. He’s not insisting they keep going because they’re running out of food, his desperation is because he needs to find the sick bay. He needs medicine.

Fear, hot and fierce, burns through Emma. Panic causing her next words to rush out of her in a torrent.

“Killian go back. Go back now, and go to bed.”

He shakes his head and breathes heavily before opening his mouth to speak, but Emma doesn’t let him get the words out.

“Please.” She steps over to him entreating, desperate for him to listen. She places her hands against his cheeks, and hopes that he can see the seriousness in her eyes. “I need you to go back, I need you to rest, because I need you to get better. I’ll keep going, I’ll find the sick bay—but I need you go to back to camp.” 

“Emma,” he whispers in a tired voice and gently wraps the fingers of his good hand around her wrist. “I can’t. I’m not just going to leave you in here alone.”

“I can manage. But I’m serious, you need to go back.”

“You can’t just wander this bloody monster of a ship on your own. What if you get hurt? And what if I don’t get to you in time? Or what if I can’t find you at all? It’s too dangerous, Emma.” His words are brimming with anxiety, but she can’t let his worry about something that probably won’t even happen, keep him from taking care of himself.

“I’ll be fine.” She rubs her thumb back and forth across his cheekbone in an attempt to quiet his distress. “But I’m not going to let you get sick from an infection because you’re too stubborn to take care of yourself. I’ll be careful.”

His lips tighten in dislike, unhappy with the idea of leaving her. The firm set of his mouth and the determined furrow of his brow tells her that he’s going to insist on staying, but he sags a little heavier against the table, and she knows she’s going to get him back to camp even if she has to drag him there herself.

Taking hold of his hand she pulls him up from the table and tugs him across the small room and back out into the hallway.

“Swan…” he contests once he realizes what she’s trying to do, but his voice is low and tired.

“No. There is no argument. You’re going back, and I’m going to stay and find you medicine.” 

She’s tried pleading with him, reassuring him, reasoning with him, she’s tried flat out demanding him. But still he foolishly insists on staying with her, more concerned with making sure nothing happens to her then he is about the fact that he can barely stand. 

She knows he’s already sick, knows his hand is infected and that if they don’t do something soon then they might not have the means to do anything at all. And she is _not_ going to let that happen.

She is _not_ going to let him leave her on this planet alone. Her heart aches and she chokes on the agony of just thinking about it. And who knows how long she’d survive without him. They’ve kept each other alive, kept each other going, and she needs him just as much as he needs her.

And suddenly she knows what to say to convince him—locking her gaze with his she infuses her voice with all the fervor and anguish she feels at the thought of losing him. “If you die,” she breathes, eyes watering just from the possibility, “then I will too.”

A single tear slips down her cheek, and Killian swiftly wipes it away. “Alright,” he whispers and heavily leans his forehead against hers. The warmth of his skin only succeeds in tightening the grip of worry in her chest. “But if you’re not back by nightfall, then I’m coming to find you.”

Emma watches him leave until his shadow is swallowed by the darkness of the hallway, and then turning she heads to the next door as though there is fire at her heels, her steps quick and urgent.

* * *

Emma keeps searching for as long as she dares, but she’s anxious to get back to Killian, fearful of the state she’ll find him in.

She doesn’t find the sick bay, but does come across a kitchen with plenty of food. But even the promise of finally eating something other than ration bars cannot ease the tightness in her chest. She grabs a large pot and packs as much as she can carry, hauling it back to camp with her arms straining the whole way.

The final light of day is fading just as she makes it back, and Killian is still awake but just barely. He gives almost no acknowledgement of her arrival, just a quiet grunt and a hollow stare before closing his eyes and groaning softly.

Emma is quick to make a fire and begins crafting a broth from the food she brought back, hoping that a little more nourishment will help Killian stave off the infection in his hand. 

He slips into unconsciousness as the soup heats, and is not eager to wake once it’s finished. Emma has to heave him up into a sitting position and he groans at the effort. Stroking his face she murmurs comforting nonsense before grabbing the soup and feeding him a spoonful. He’s slow to swallow, but Emma keeps bringing the spoon to his lips until she’s satisfied that he’s had enough.

Collapsing back down into their bed he closes his eyes and easily falls back asleep.

Emma makes her way over to the stream close by and brings back a fresh pot of water, and soaking a portion of one of the sheets she wipes the cool water across his brow. His skin is burning, and it’s not long before the heat seeps into the fabric and she has to rinse it to keep it cool. She repeats the process over and over again, wiping his face, his throat, his chest—desperately trying to lower his body temperature.

His fever eases up a little, and with nothing else to do she crawls into bed with him. The warmth under the blankets is uncomfortable but she can’t bring herself to sleep apart from him. Maybe it’s unreasonable but she needs to feel his breathing, feel the steadiness of his heartbeat, or she’ll never have enough peace of mind to fall asleep.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispers into the quiet night air. Curling up next to him she can only pray that she’s right.

* * *

Emma is wakened abruptly by someone thrashing next to her and before she registers what is going on she’s roughly shoved from their makeshift bed. It’s dark, and she can’t have been sleeping for more than an hour or two, but her brain is slow to wake leaving her disoriented. When alertness does catch up with her she realizes that it was Killian sitting up that must have woken her.

_He’s awake._

She darts to the dying fire and places a branch in it, stoking the flames until they burn high enough for her to see his face.

_He’s awake._ This has to be a good thing.

But it’s not.

And the look in his eyes does nothing but make her heart sink in fear. He’s looking right at her but staring straight through her. His eyes glazed over as though he sees nothing. His hair is a mess, sweat from his fever making it either stick to his forehead or stick straight into the air.

“Killian?” Emma takes slow measured steps until she can kneel in front of him.

He murmurs something incoherent as she places the back of her hand against his forehead—it’s still burning with fever.

“I’m going to get you some water,” she tells him while reaching for the canteen. He takes only a few sips when she presses the mouth of the bottle to his lips before he weakly turns his head and pushes it away.

“Come on, just a little more.”

He obliges and takes one more drink before he chokes a on some of the water and coughs. Once his airway is clear he gives his head a shake and looks directly into Emma’s eyes. After blinking a few times his eyes seem to focus, and Emma feels the tiniest bud of relief spring to life in her chest.

“Liam?” he rasps.

That relief is uprooted as quickly as it sprouted. “N-no, it’s me. Killian, it’s me. It’s Emma.” She sounds desperate. She _is_ desperate. But mostly she’s terrified. If his fever is high enough that he’s hallucinating then she doesn’t have time to wait—or sleep. She needs to do something _now._  

“I’ve missed you, brother.” Tears well up in his eyes before he drops his head forward, resting his forehead heavily against her shoulder.

“It’s Emma. Killian, I’m right here, I haven’t left you.”

“Ever since you died I’ve tried so hard to make you proud,” he mutters against her shirt, “I-I think you would be, or at least I hope are.”

Her already frayed emotions tear just a little more at the pain in his voice. He’s never told her how his brother died. And she doesn’t want it to come out now, not while he’s sick and hallucinating. She wants him to tell her when their curled up together under the stars and she can feel the strength of his arms around her. She wants him to tell her when he’s healthy; she wants him to tell her because he _wants_ to, not because his fever is making him hallucinate.

She softly hushes him, rubbing his back in comfort before taking hold of his shoulders and guiding him back down onto the bed.

“I feel awful, Liam,” he groans.

“I know,” she murmurs, giving in. “I know you do. Just lie down and try to rest, okay?” She runs a trembling hand through her hair and then presses it against her mouth and chokes on a single sob. “I-I’m going to try magic. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”

Killian’s already drifted back into unconsciousness, and so she whispers the last sentence to herself before kneeling at his side and hovering her hands above his injured one. Inhaling deeply through her nose she closes her eyes and focuses all her energy on healing Killian. Her hands shake, trembling from the combination of the intensity of her fear and worry, and the desperate exertion in which she’s trying to summon her magic. 

But nothing happens.

Nothing happens, and her shaking only increases, the dread that’s consuming her soul distracting her. She can’t do this—she can’t heal him.

“Come on,” she begs clenching her fists, trying to calm herself down before trying again. But still nothing happens and her desperation increases with her shaking. Emma screams in frustration and the flames of the fire burst higher, emitting an explosion of sparks.

If she can’t heal him, she sure as hell isn’t going to sit here and wait until the light of day to do something. Scrambling from his side she locates the flashlight and Killian’s pack, emptying it completely in case she needs to carry things back with her.

Leaning over him she brushes his hair back from his face then gently places her forehead against his. “I’ll be back.” It’s a promise breathed against his skin, but it’s also a plea—that he’ll still be here when she does come back.  

And so with only the light of the stars to guide her, Emma rushes back to the wreck descending once again into its depths. 


	13. Chapter 13

Technically searching the spaceliner in the dead of night should be no different than searching it in the middle of the day. No matter the time, the flashlight is all Emma has as a source of light.

But somehow it is different. In the night the darkness seems more opaque, thicker almost. The blackness practically smothering her as it presses in at her from all sides. The stream of light from her flashlight cuts through it easily but causes sinister shadows to dance at the edge of her vision. They’re never real though, disappearing as soon as she turns to look at them.

It doesn’t help that ever since Killian woke in a fevered delirium she’s had this choking feeling that’s been trying to claw its way out of her chest. Fear and anxiety tear at her lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

She’s scared to leave Killian alone for too long, worried that too much time away from him could be deadly. So she creates a systematic way to balance searching for the medicine and going back to check on him.

Thirty doors. She opens thirty doors, and searches through thirty rooms before she turns around and goes back to make sure he’s alive and trickle some water  down his throat. Then in spite of how little sleep she’s gotten or how heavy her body feels, she races to the spaceliner to do it all again.

Each time she makes a trip back Emma takes a quick detour into the kitchens and blindly shoves as much food as she can into the pack. She doesn’t want to waste time not searching for medicine, but it’s on the way out and she also doesn’t want to waste the countless trips she’s making into the spaceliner. So she rationalizes one minute worth of stocking up on supplies, telling herself that the food she’s grabbing is going to help Killian regain his strength.

She loses track of how many trips she makes. The dark of the night fades to the light of the morning and before she knows it the sun has once again disappeared beneath the horizon.         

Her flashlight begins to dim and so she turns it off, only using it when she needs to. She’s been back and forth enough times to have the place memorized. These dark hallways have engrained themselves into her brain. She knows how far she needs to walk pass the laundry room until the hallway divides. She knows to take the path on the right because the left leads to a dead end, and she knows exactly where to locate the stairway because she knows that none of the doors on that level lead to the sick bay.

Emma gets increasingly frustrated with herself as time goes on. She’s been on this ship throughout her life more times than she can count. Especially recently, with her parents shipping her off every chance they could, intent on keeping her safe. She should know where the sick bay is—but she can’t remember ever needing it. She’d never been sick or injured during any of her trips.   

No. She’d never needed it. _But Ruby had_ , and that means she’s been there at least once.

The memory tickles at the edge of her recollection—teasing her as it hides just out of reach. She remembers that the lights were bright and the room had the sharp smell of sanitizer, but she can’t remember _where_ it is. 

She can’t remember which level they were on or which hallway they walked down as Emma supported an ill Ruby to the sick bay.

_Ruby._

Her eyes sting at the thought of her friend. It’s been a while since she’s let herself think of Ruby or Elsa, and oh how she _misses_ them. It’s a pain that knocks her breathless and leaves her gasping. She’s lost them—and she can’t help but feel like she’s about to lose Killian. She’s drowning in how helpless and terrified she feels, unsure how to reach the surface and breathe again.

Suddenly the darkness spins around her, dizziness stealing her balance. Placing a hand against the wall to catch herself she closes her eyes and waits for the light-headedness to end.

She’s exhausted—physically and emotionally, and she doesn’t think she’s eaten anything since the broth she made Killian.

Sliding down the wall Emma brings her knees to her chest and lets her head fall back against the steel behind her. Ten seconds. That’s all she gives herself. Ten seconds to be weak, to let the tears slip out and wallow in how hopeless she feels. Then she takes a steadying breath and reaches deep inside herself to find the strength she needs.

 Killian is counting on her and she can’t afford to think so hopelessly. She has five more rooms to look through before its time to go back and check on him. Emma forces herself to stand, drags her heavy limbs from the floor and keeps walking.

No matter how tired she is or how frayed her emotions are, _she has to keep moving_.

* * *

Just like he is every time, Killian is unconscious when she makes it back to camp. With a thud she lets the pack on her back fall to the ground and begins putting the food stores away with the other supplies she’s gathered. The fire is almost completely out so she tosses in some more kindling and prods it back to life.

Crawling over to Killian she grabs the rag from the pot of water she has set up and begins bathing his skin, smoothing the cool cloth along his face, chest, and arms. Then, lifting his head she trickles some water into his mouth and waits for him to swallow weekly a few times.

He groans when she gently lays his head back down, and Emma runs her fingers through his hair to try and soothe him.

“Killian,” she whispers, tracing the backs of her fingers against his cheeks. His skin is just so _hot._ The apples of his cheeks are flushed, a stark contrast to the otherwise paleness of his skin.

Emma’s hands tremble as she reaches for his injured arm. Irritated red lines have begun sneaking their way from underneath the bandage and are traveling up the inside of his arm. She swallows thickly and traces her thumb along one of the angry lines.

Her insides feel as though they are crumbling, unraveling until there is nothing left but a gaping hole that fills her with a horror more intense than any she’s ever experienced before. She tries to still her shaking and runs her hands gently across his brow and through his hair as though simply her touch could take away his illness.

Emma’s eyes burn as she tries to hold in her tears. “Please,” she breathes as she eases down to lie beside him, pressing her forehead to his temple and feeling the heat from his fever warm her skin. “Please, don’t leave me,” her words are just a whisper, a gentle caress of air against his skin.

She lets out a shaky breath before placing a gentle kiss against his cheek and settling back down to her previous position. Her eyes close as a few silent tears slip down her face, “Killian, come back to me.”

But despite her desperate pleas he remains lost in unconsciousness.

Emma places her hand tenderly against his chest. The gentle rise and fall it takes with his every breath, and the steady rhythm of his heart, brings her the smallest bit of comfort.

She needs to keep searching the spaceliner, she needs to find him medicine. But she hasn’t slept in over a day and she’ll be no good to him if she ends up collapsing from exhaustion. Just an hour of rest and then she’ll go back to searching, but even those few precious minutes feel like ones she cannot spare.

So Emma has to force herself to try and sleep, jolting awake every twenty minutes, her heart clenched in fear as she checks on Killian. Once she determines that his state has not worsened, she lets her eyes fall closed again and returns to a fitful state of rest.

By the time she gets up and begins making her way back to the spaceliner, she’s hardly slept at all.


	14. Chapter 14

Emma finds the room with the communications system a few hours later, and for the first time since Killian started feeling sick, she feels a surge of hope.

Though finding the communication system had been their sole reason for trekking to the spaceliner, it’s been the farthest thing from Emma’s mind. But now that she’s found it she can’t help but feel like it’s the answer to everything. If she can make contact with someone back home, or send out a distress signal then help could very well be here by nightfall. She knows her parents would tear through space and time to reach her, sending their fastest ships. Ships that would undoubtedly have medical supplies.

_Medicine that could save Killian._

Letting out a strangled noise that sounds something between a sob and a cry of joy Emma rushes further into the room, tripping over her own feet in her haste.

But with each step forward her excitement slowly slips away, and the stifling feeling of hopelessness, that has been all too familiar these past couple of days, returns in full force.

Slowing to a stop Emma takes a moment to really look at the room she’s just stepped into—and it’s torn apart.

At first it’s nothing new, chairs, pieces of metal, and other random objects are strewn across the room, just like how most of the spaceliner looks. But upon further inspection Emma notices that large portions of the room are charred. Blackened metal spreads like a stain across most of the walls and across the various panels of technology filled tables.

Emma’s eyes scan the ruined room frantically until they find the culprit. Melted wires lay twisted and frayed at the base of the worst of the damage.

An electrical fire has left the room burnt and useless.   

Walking slowly to the communications panel Emma runs her fingertips across the singed and half melted array of buttons and wires. There’s no need to even try to turn it on. She can tell just from looking at it that it’s beyond hope. It won’t work.

Emma stands motionless staring at the charred remains of what had once been their hope for going home—but she barely registers what the loss of being able to send out a distress signal will mean for them, too consumed by what this means for Killian. Getting off the planet is nothing if she can’t leave it with him.

A strange mix of anger and sorrow stirs within her chest, boiling over until Emma kicks at the closest piece of fallen debris and yells out in frustration. Searching for the damned communications system is what got Killian hurt in the first place—and it had all been for nothing.

Absolutely nothing. And she finds raging at the useless object easier than the alternative, easier than letting the tears burning at the back of her eyes escape. For she fears that if she starts crying again she may never stop.

So with her back stiff Emma leaves the communications room without a backwards glance. Lingering is not going to make it work, and she refuses to waste any more time on something that’s not going to help Killian.

* * *

It’s not much later that Emma becomes convinced that the planet is purposefully trying to take everything away from her.

Her flashlight has been growing dimmer for a while but when it finally gives out she almost collapses to the floor in despair.

“No,” she mutters in disbelief as the light flickers a few times before sputtering out completely. “No. Come on, please, no.” She hits it against her hand repeatedly, desperately trying to jolt it back to life.

But nothing happens.

A tiny sob catches in her throat, but other than that Emma remains silent, staring blankly into the darkness. With trembling hands she places the flashlight into the pack and tries to keep herself calm. She’ll figure out what to do—she has to.

She’ll go back, check on Killian and then reevaluate from there.

Her fingers trace along the walls as she makes her way back. Touch the only sense she can rely on inside the endless abyss of the spaceliner. Soon enough the thick all-encompassing darkness is replaced by the shadowed light of the first hallway her and Killian had stepped foot in, the opening in the ship’s hull a shining light beckoning her to the outside world.

The sun is just barely past midday when she steps out into the open air, a small blessing as it’s always easier to find her way back to camp in the daylight.

 But not even the light of the sun can stop the overwhelming fear that grips her entire body every time she walks up to Killian’s prone form. Terror that this time she’ll be too late. Dread that doesn’t completely leave even when she sees the shallow rise and fall of his labored breathing.

Completing her ritual of doing all she can to stave off the fever and keep him hydrated Emma begins tracing the contours of his face with her fingers, stroking his cheekbones as a means to comfort herself as much as him.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers to him, voice shaking. “I don’t know what to do, and I can’t lose you.” Tears that she’d been trying to keep at bay while in the spaceliner flow freely now, trailing down her cheeks until they land on his chest like a soft rainfall. “I can’t find it,” she sobs, “but please just stay. Please stay and tell me what to do.”

Wiping at her eyes Emma lies down to rest her head against his chest, but only cries harder when the heat of his fever quickly warms her own skin.

She stays there until her tears slow and her breathing calms, and it’s while listening to his heartbeat that she feels the familiar sensation of the air humming. Her skin tingling as hairs on her arm stand on end. Closing her eyes Emma tries to ignore it, begging whatever it is about this planet to _just stop_. But the buzzing increases until it’s a drone that rattles deep within her bones.

Sitting up Emma furrows her brows as she examines her tingling skin. Her arms appear normal but her eyes widen the second they take in her hands.

Resting in her palms is the softest traces of light that pulsates in time to the humming of the air. Emma gasps at the unintentional display of her magic, staring at her glowing hands until she realizes that the buzzing of the air and the resulting tingling of her skin is not unlike the prickling warmth she feels with her own magic.

Emma’s heartbeat quickens with excitement and for the first time in days she feels herself smiling. Focusing on the humming air she experiments with drawing on the energy it’s providing. Concentrating on her hands she tries to summon more of her own magic. The light in her palms suddenly shines twice as bright and Emma can’t help but laugh with complete elation.

Scrambling for Killian’s injured hand, Emma quickly removes the bandages and gently rests his arm in her lap. Hovering both hands above the red and swollen gash she takes a deep breath and once again focuses on the air’s peculiar energy, using it to waken and warm her magic.

She almost cries again when the familiar thrumming in her veins spreads and seeps into her hands, translating into a bright light that radiates from her palm to Killian’s. It’s with a relief deeper than she’s ever known that Emma watches as the angry red lines of infection fade from Killian’s arm and the wound closes, leaving his skin flawless and injury free.

With a laugh that sounds suspiciously close to a sob Emma lets her magic simmer out as she grabs Killian’s hand and repeatedly runs her thumb across his palm.

_She healed him._

Still holding onto him, Emma rests the back of her other hand against his forehead and sighs with relief at the already significantly cooler temperature of his skin

She knows he’s going to be okay now—she can’t explain it but somehow she knows. It’s as if the deepest place within her is suddenly at ease, reassured that he’s going to live. It’s an odd feeling; she’s spent the last three days on the precipice of absolute fear and anxiety, her sheer exhaustion and frayed emotions threatening to knock her over at any moment. But now it’s almost like the air is lighter, the ground beneath her steadier—and it takes her a moment to catch her bearings. 

Still rubbing her thumb along the line where his cut had been, Emma allows herself to simply stare at him, let’s herself soak in the reality that he’s not going anywhere. That she healed him.

But she can only ignore her lack of sleep for so long, and within minutes her body is wilting, her eyes refusing to stay open. The adrenaline that’s kept her going for the last few days doesn’t linger, and as a result she can hardly hold herself up.

With a contented sigh Emma crawls beneath the blankets and snuggles in next to Killian. Curling her small frame around him. And with her head resting against his chest and her arm wrapped securely across his stomach, Emma closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep with ease.

-CS-

Killian knows something is off when Liam appears. But he can’t find it within him to care when his brother is _here_.

_And oh how he’s missed him._

But Liam doesn’t say much, just hushes him and tells him to rest. And it’s against his will that Killian’s eyes close, but his eyelids are too heavy and his limbs feel too thick, and as much as he wants to stay here, to stay with Liam, sleep claims him.

Liam is gone when he drags his eyes open again.

This time he welcomes sleep. Seeks it even. Anything to ease the newly reawakened sting in his heart.

_It’s hot_. Much too hot. He’s being scorched, but his muscles are too heavy, too weak to do anything about it.

Emma’s gone. She’d been there before, taken away some of the burning. But she’s no longer here.

She’ll be back. She’s always coming and going, coming and going. Always carrying things. So many things.  But she always comes back.

            The last time he sees her in his burning haze she’s emptying things from his pack, her cheeks tear stained. He tries to call out to her, but she doesn’t hear. But then again maybe he never actually said anything, maybe his voice is like his muscles—unresponsive. He wants to see her, wants to see the green of her eyes, but sleep drags him under again before he gets the chance.

* * *

Killian knows something is different this time when he opens his eyes. His body feels stiff but not heavy, not so thick that he can’t move.

Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, he becomes aware of a new weight on his chest, but he recognizes the familiar pressure instantly. Smiling to himself he looks down to see a tousle of blonde hair resting against him comfortably.

Lifting the arm that isn’t tucked beneath her, Killian softly brushes back some of her hair in order to better see her face. She scrunches her nose against his feather light touch and slowly blinks her eyes open.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his voice gruff from a lack of use. “Or should I say good evening, as the sun is actually setting.”

She gives him a soft smile before blinking her eyes a few times, still not fully awake. It’s a lovely sight, like watching the sun rise, the jade of her eyes as striking as any morning sky.

It takes a minute for her eyes to focus and find clarity, but when they do they widen as she jolts up to a sitting position quicker than he can inhale. He misses her warmth immediately.  

“You’re awake!” she gasps.

“Aye, I am,” he croaks, before trying to clear his throat from whatever is blocking it. Emma stares at him with a surprising intensity, her eyes soaking in every detail, and she’s biting her lip as though trying to keep some emotion in check.

Killian furrows his brow at the slight tremble of her lip and takes a moment to really look at her properly for the first time since he woke up. Both her face and her shirt a streaked with dirt, stains covering a shirt he could have sworn was perfectly clean the other day. Her eyes are red, exhaustion clearly written across her face, and the purple shadows under her eyes testify to little, if any, sleep.

“Emma?” he asks concerned. “What—“

“You were sick.” She interrupts, reaching for the canteen behind her without looking at it and bringing it to his lips like she’s done it a thousand times.

 He takes it from her and swallows a long draught. “How long?” He asks with a slightly clearer voice.

“About three days.” There is a slight catch in her voice that breaks his heart, and he can see her take a deep breath, controlling her emotions. “Your hand…it got infected. And I couldn’t get my magic to work and I-I couldn’t find any medicine.” She takes another shaky breath and reaches to intertwine her fingers with his. “You were just so sick, and… and I was losing you.” She whispers the last bit, raw and intense.

“Hey,” he soothes, giving her hand a gentle tug to pull her closer. She all but collapses into his arms, burying her face against his neck, and he both hears and feels her quiet sob. “I’m right here,” he murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He rocks her back and forth for a moment while she calms, and when she finally pulls away from his embrace it’s only slightly, just enough so that she can look him in the eye.

“Three days,” he repeats incredulously, lifting his hand and using his thumb to wipe away a smear of dirt along the apple of her cheek. “What about you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”  She tries to give him a reassuring smile, but her voice is coated in fatigue. He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at her, which only causes her to sigh and shake her head. “I promise I’m fine. All that matters is that you’re okay now.”  She reaches for his hand and holds it palm up between them.

Her fingertips leave soft trails along the lines of his palm, and he looks down to see that her fingers glide across perfect smooth skin. Killian’s breath catches and he stares in wide eyed amazement at the complete lack of injury. He may have been out of it for three days, but unless he’s much mistaken his hand should not have healed _that much._

“Your magic.” It’s the only explanation for why he doesn’t even have a scar. “I thought you said you couldn’t get it to work?”

“I couldn’t,” she affirms, and Killian tilts his head in confusion. “But the planet… remember the humming air I told you about? The buzzing that you couldn’t feel?” Killian nods his head once but remains quiet, waiting for her to continue. “I-I don’t know how to explain it. The air, it had this energy that helped me access my magic, helped me heal you.”

She’s got a far off look in her eyes, and though Killian finds the whole situation as remarkable as she does, he files the information away to think about later. Concentrating now on the exhausted woman in front of him.

“Sounds to me,” he says before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips in order to pull her from her thoughts, “like you were bloody brilliant as always. How many times have you saved me now?”

She smiles at him and nuzzles her nose against his, keeping their foreheads pressed together. “I wouldn’t survive here without you,” she breathes, her voice hardly a whisper.

“By the sound of it you survived at least three days, and kept me alive.” He lowers his voice to match hers and brushes the backs of his fingers against her cheekbone.

“That’s not what I mean.” She presses herself a little closer to him, and before he can utter words of reassurance she’s leaning into kiss him again—soft, slow, and with just a hint of desperation.   

“You need to eat something,” she says a little breathlessly as she extracts herself from his embrace. She goes to stand but Killian stops her by wrapping his fingers gently around her wrist.

“Emma, I’ll get it. You look exhausted.”  

“No. Please, you still need to rest.” Her eyes hold the same hint of desperation that was in her kiss, and it’s her slight look of panic that keeps Killian from insisting he get up to do it. When she seems satisfied that he’s going to stay in their makeshift bed, Emma finishes hauling herself to her feet.

He can see her exhaustion—it’s in the way she trembles slightly as she stands, the way she reaches out a hand to keep her balance, and in how she bites her lip too hard as she sways before finding stability. It takes everything within Killian to keep from getting up to help her. But it’s obvious that she’s as emotionally drained as she is physically, and if letting her take care of him is going to make her feel better, then Killian will wait and watch with anxious eyes and muscles ready to spring to catch her should she show any signs that she’s about to fall.

She rummages around for a moment in a stack of supplies that have multiplied way beyond what Killian remembers. She returns to sit in front of him, handing over a ration bar and a box of crackers with an apologetic smile.

“There’s a lot more, but it needs to be cooked” she explains, “If you want something different I can heat something up.”

“This is wonderful, love. We can cook something together tomorrow.”  

She doesn’t take her eyes off him as he unwraps and eats the food she brought him. She’s acting like he’ll disappear if she’s not careful and it makes his heart constrict to realize what he must have done to her, how sick he must have been.

“Come here, Swan.” He opens his arm in invitation and wraps it securely around her once she’s snuggled up against his chest. “How long had you been sleeping, before I woke you?”

She looks up to the sky to take note of the position of the sun and then shrugs. “A couple hours or so.”

“Hmmm…” he hums as he resituates them so they’re once again lying beneath the blankets of their little bed. “That won’t do, now will it?”

Emma opens her mouth to protest, probably to tell him she’s _fine_ , or to insist that he’s the one that needs to rest, but Killian affectionately hushes her before she gets the chance.

“I’ll keep resting,” he promises with a kiss to the top of her head. “But only if you try to sleep.”

She yawns in perfect timing to his request and nuzzles herself impossibly closer. “You should sleep too,” she mutters, eyes already closed.

“As the lady wishes,” he whispers against her hair. His words are lost on sleeping ears; Emma’s deep and even breathing indicating that it took no more than a few seconds for her to lose the battle with wakefulness. 

Killian holds her there, alternating between watching her sleep and watching as the stars blink to life in the night sky. Humming quietly, he runs his fingers up and down Emma’s spine content to lie there for hours as she rests.

He loses track of time but Emma’s insistence that he needs rest must hold some weight, because despite the fact that he’s been unconscious for the past three days, it’s not long before he feels his own eyes begin to drift close.


	15. Chapter 15

Killian wakes just as the sun is beginning to peek above the horizon, the soft pinks and oranges that stain the morning sky offer just enough light to make out the details of their little campsite. Emma is still sound asleep next to him, her breathing soft and slow—and it doesn’t appear as though she’ll be waking any time soon, for which he’s glad. He could practically feel how exhausted she’d been—and she both needs and deserves the rest.

Before leaving the warmth of the bed and Emma’s skin, Killian takes a moment to admire the way the morning light kisses her features. Her hair shines with the colors of the sunrise and the light dusting of freckles that crosses her cheekbones stand out just a little more than usual under the direct rays of the sunlight. And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sight quite so beautiful.  

He’s careful when untangling himself from beneath the blankets, moving slowly so as not to disturb her. Once he’s successfully freed himself he tugs the blankets a little higher over her shoulder, and presses the lightest of kisses against her hair.

Standing up is harder than he anticipated, and harder than he thinks it ever should be. He’s stiff and sore, and his body protests his every movement. Apparently being unconscious for a few days leaves even the task of straightening his back a painful one. It takes several awkward and rigid steps before his body seems to find its rhythm again, but the motion of walking alone seems to dissipate some of the soreness.

With a quiet groan he leans down to rummage through their supplies, locating some fresh clothing and soap. He chuckles to himself as he reads the label of the bottle in his hand—lavender and honey—definitely not his first choice when it comes to picking a scent for himself but it’s better than the alternative of dirt and sweat.

He bathes in the frigid water of the stream, hissing sharply when his skin makes first contact with the water—it’s uncomfortable, but enduring the icy temperature is worth the feeling of being clean.  

He occupies himself afterwards by going through the supplies and food Emma had managed to gather during her excursions to the spaceliner. He wants to cook her a large warm meal, something that would feel extravagant when compared to their tasteless diet of ration bars and whatever else they manage to find in the wild. But it’s still much too early and he hopes Emma will keep sleeping for at least a few more hours—so he settles with taking inventory instead. Dividing their rations into non-perishables and perishables, identifying what should be eaten sooner rather than later, and trying to come up with a plan to make everything last as long as possible.

He’s amazed at all that Emma seemed to have gathered, but his heart squeezes at the thought that she’d done this all alone. That she’d hauled food back to their campsite while exhausted and worried. That she did all of this as she tried to find a way to save him. It’s part of why he wants her to keep resting, why he wants to have something warm and delicious ready when she wakes. He might have been unable to help her for the last few days but he wants to more than make up for it now.

He’s half way through cooking their meal when she finally wakes. He hears her before he sees her. Hears the tousle of the bedding and then the quiet little hum she usually gives as she stretches the sleep from her limbs. He looks up from his place at the fire and can’t help but smile.

She’s sitting up with hair a bit unruly and her eyes not fully open. She’s slouched over as though she’s not completely awake yet, and it’s with a yawn that she arches her back and gives her head a little shake to wake herself up.

Killian’s smile only widens as he watches her—he’s quickly discovering that seeing the adorable mess that is Emma Swan in the mornings is easily one of his favorite things.

“Good morning, love,” he greets her as he makes his way over to help her to her feet. He presses a sweet kiss to her lips and smiles when she hums happily against him.

“Good morning indeed,” she echoes back before pressing her palm against his heart and looking at him seriously. “How are you feeling though?”

He covers her hand with his own and squeezes it tenderly. “I told you darling I’m completely fine, if it weren’t for the fact I’m just a little bit stiff I would have never known I was sick.”

She purses her lips a little at his words, still a bit skeptical. He assumes that only showing her through the course of the day will convince her that he’s feeling completely healed. So in an attempt to soothe her he traces his fingertips up the length of her spine before trailing one hand over her shoulder and brushing her hair back from her neck. He might feel fine but she still doesn’t quite look like she’s recovered from the whole ordeal. The purple shadows that had been beneath her eyes yesterday are smaller and less noticeable—but still she looks as though she could sleep for another day.

“How are you?” he asks as his fingers skim the dark shadows in question. “You still look tired.”

Emma sighs in response, wrapping her arms tighter around him and tucking herself in against him so that her head rests just under his chin. “I’m much better now that you’re no longer dying.” she mumbles quietly against his chest.

He’s at a complete loss for words so he just holds her and presses her a little more firmly against him, letting her know that he’s _here_ and he’s not going anywhere.

“You smell nice.” She eventually says as she pulls out of his embrace and Killian laughs because out of everything this is what she notices, but he immediately latches onto the opportunity to lighten the mood.

“Aye, like lavender and honey to be exact.”

She raises her eyebrows in amused confusion, and he laughs again finding her bewildered expression endlessly endearing.

“It was the soap you brought back with some of the supplies. You should take it and some fresh clothes and wash off in the stream. It’ll help you feel better. By the time you get back I’ll have some food ready for you.”

She smiles up at him—the idea of being clean probably the most appealing thing to her right now—and then rises up on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I think I’ll do just that.”

She has a little skip in her step as she gathers what she needs and Killian feels his heart lift at the sight of her happiness. 

* * *

She’s back not too long after and they eat in relative silence. Emma’s eyes had grown when she took in all that he made them for breakfast, which wasn’t much but anything after weeks of ration bars is a feast.

Once they’re done and everything is cleaned up and put away they somehow find themselves back beneath the blankets of their bed, cuddled together before it’s even midday.

As she lays her head against her chest he breathes in the scent of the honey and lavender soap, and somehow the scent he’d been so amused by earlier is absolutely intoxicating when mixed with her skin. He buries his nose within her still wet hair—a new found appreciation for the particular aroma.

They really should be doing something productive, but if anything they deserve a rest day or two—a day to do nothing before they go back to searching the spaceliner for the communications system. Killian tells her as much and is surprised when he feels her stiffen in his arms.

“We’re not going back inside the spaceliner Killian.”

She offers no explanation, just spits the words out as rigidly as her tensed muscles. He assumes she doesn’t want to go in there because of the time she spent alone searching for medicine. She hasn’t told him much but from the look in her eyes he can only guess it wasn’t pleasant.

“Alright,” he appeases, “you don’t have to go back, Emma. I can search. Just tell me where you’ve already been and you’ll never have to step foot in there again, I promise.”

“No it’s not that…” She props herself up too look at him and there’s a deep sadness and hopelessness within her gaze that has Killian’s brow coming together in concern. 

“Swan, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I-I made it through a lot of the spaceliner. I don’t think you can search much more before you’d end up going up to the residential levels… and there… there’s bound to be bodies…” She swallows thickly and drops her gaze as Killian runs his hand up and down her back.

It would be unpleasant and horrifying to say the least, but if it meant he could find the communications center he’d search that area of the spaceliner for her.

“But that’s not the only reason,” she continues capturing his attention again. “I already found the communications center…. It’s ruined. There’s no way we can get it to work. We’re not going to be able to make contact with anyone.”

She bites her lip after saying the last bit, and water starts to gather in her eyes until they collect into soft tears, escaping to her cheeks as she blinks.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers. The news is a shock to his system and his chest feels hollow—empty of something he’s just now realizing never really had hope for happening in the first place. Since the beginning they’ve always figured there was a way off—a way to find rescue. Weeks have been spent with the promise of finding a way to send out a distress signal, of finding a way to send for help. And now that the possibility is gone . . . _he feels empty_. At a complete loss on what to do next.

“Yeah…” is all Emma manages to whisper back, quietly acknowledging the hopelessness he knows she’s feeling too.

It takes him a minute to regain composure but soon he’s wiping the tears from her cheeks and gently pulling her down to rest against his chest again. “We’ll be okay,” he mummers against her hair. “I don’t know what we’ll do, but we’ll figure something out. We’ll be okay.”

“What will you miss the most?” she asks after a beat of silence.

He considers her question silently before answering. He’s not sure he has much _to_ miss actually.

“I don’t really know,” he answers truthfully. “I wasn’t living for much, not since my brother died. I had the navy—but that was more just something to keep me occupied, something to do to make Liam proud. I lost any true desire to advance in the ranks once he died, but I didn’t have anything else, and staying was a way to keep him with me.”

He feels the familiar ache just beneath his breastbone that always accompanies thoughts of his brother, but Emma’s presence mercifully keeps the brunt of the pain at bay. She absorbs his response quietly, doing nothing but using her fingertips to trace small circles against his shirt. 

“What will you miss the most?” he eventually asks.

“Hot cocoa and cinnamon,” she muses and then laughs softly at her own answer as though something so small shouldn’t be something she misses. “My parents,” she continues, reflecting a little deeper. “Though truthfully I haven’t seen much of them in the past few years, they kept sending me away, all with the intent to protect me…I’ve only seen them a handful of times in the past year. If they knew I was alive they’d probably be happy that I was finally safe”

He doesn’t say anything, because what is there to say? He can’t assure her that she’ll see them again because he doesn’t know if she will. He just lays with her in silence, his fingers tangling and untangling the ends of her hair.

“You mentioned they’ve been trying to keep you safe—“ he trails off leaving his statement open ended, his curiosity obvious, but he keeps the pressure of the actual question out of his tone. She’s hinted at trouble at home before—and ignored each and every time he’s tries to inquire further.

“It’s complicated,” she sighs. “You know of the Dark One?” Killian only nods, he’s heard of the demon and the horrors of his magic, but there isn’t anyone from his home realm who hasn’t.

“Well shortly after I was born there was some prophecy that I’d be the cause of the end of his powers. And if you can imagine he does _not_ like that. My parents did a good job at keeping me safe growing up, he never really felt like a threat and as a result I’ve had a hard time actually believing any of this to begin with. But more recently he’s been impossibly managing to gain more power, and entire regions have been falling into darkness. My parents can’t explain it, and they no longer felt like they could protect me, so keeping me hidden away in a spaceliner was the next best thing.”

She shrugs her shoulders at the end of her tale, as though the darkest magical being in existence isn’t intent on her demise.

“It’s all a bunch of nonsense anyway. I can’t exactly be the end of his powers when I’m living on a stranded planet galaxies away. But…” she props herself up and he meets her emerald gaze. “…as much as I’ll miss everything at home, I’m happy that I’m not here alone. And I’m more than just a little happy that you’re the one I’m stuck with.”

She grins down at him and Killian surges forward to capture her lips with his. She squeals in surprise when he flips them over, pressing her into the blankets beneath them. He keeps the kiss at a relaxed pace, relishing in the way he can feel every slide of her lips against his.  He could drown in the softness of her lips and the smoothness of her skin—become addicted to the little noise she makes in the back of her throat when he deepens the kiss. Yes, he can think of much worse things than being stranded on a planet with Emma Swan.

Eventually he pulls away—breathless and a little dazed—his stomach flutters at the way her eyes shine as she smiles up at him.

Leaning down he skims his nose against the shell of her ear, and whispers, “I’m more than just a little happy you’re the one I’m stuck with too.”


	16. Chapter 16

They spend the next few days resting, doing absolutely nothing that requires them to walk so much as five feet from their campsite. It’s the first time since they landed that they haven’t felt an urgent need to get up and do something. There is no terrain to cross, no spaceliner to find, no communications system to search for, nothing that presses on them to get up and get going.

So they don’t.

Their days are weaved together with nothing but warm laughter and soft kisses, and Emma’s never been happier. They spend the mornings cuddled together until the sun is high in the sky. And even then they often don’t leave the warmth of the blankets or each other.

At times they find themselves talking in whispered voices, though there isn’t a soul in this world who could overhear them. But Emma likes the way their quiet conversations feel. They bring an intimacy that calms her, and makes her forget she’s one of the only people on this vast and empty planet.

And even though she’s surrounded by miles of nothing but open air and isolated landscapes—it’s in moments like these when she can feel the low hum of Killian’s voice as she lays her head on his chest, or when she can see his eyes light up as he looks at her as if she’s brighter than any star that Emma knows that despite their situation she’ll never feel alone. 

She has everything she needs as long as Killian is with her.

There is still an ache deep in her chest when she thinks of her parents. There is no doubt that they are heartbroken and grief stricken—and she knows they will probably never give up hope of finding her. They’ll search the universe for as long as they’re both alive, never stopping no matter how impossible rescuing her seems.

But as much as she wants to be rescued, the universe is a big place. And what she doesn’t want is to always be waiting—always hoping that _today_ is the day they show up. Because what sort of life is one that is always hanging on an empty and impossible promise?

She doesn’t want to wait. She wants to _live._

And right now her life is here with Killian. She doesn’t want to waste it always wallowing in despair and wondering when they’ll finally make it home. She wants to find happiness now. She wants to live in each moment she’s given—no matter how many moments that is.

* * *

As they spend the days doing nothing but relishing in each other’s company Emma begins to play with this new found connection her magic seems to have with the planet. Ever since she discovered that the buzzing of the air was energy she could use to harness her magic she’s been practicing. Using it as an opportunity to learn and control her powers.

She starts with simple things like lighting the fire or heating water, but pretty soon she’s using her magic to do things she’d never been able to before.

As she progresses she finds herself becoming almost _hyper-aware_ of the planet’s strange humming—or perhaps it’s simply that as she practices she has more access to the peculiar energy. Whatever the reason there are times when the energy becomes a little too much. It starts to burn hot, causing a white sharp pain to pierce her temples leaving her momentarily lightheaded and dizzy.

She’s not too worried about it, because it never lasts longer than a few seconds so she doesn’t bother mentioning it to Killian. She doesn’t want to worry him for no reason, and she’s enjoying finally having control of her powers. She’s even begun to find it easier to harness her magic when she doesn’t have the added benefit of the planets energy.

At the moment she’s practicing making objects disappear and then reappear in a new location, and she’s elated upon discovering that she can master it after only a couple of tries.

Killian is lounging in their little nest of a bed, watching her practice her magic with an amused smile. It probably has to do with the way she jumps up and down a couple times in excitement when she makes a new log appear in the fire.

He chuckles softly at her enthusiasm. “You’re getting quite good at this, Swan.”

“I know,” she states happily and turns to face him. Her heart fills when she lets her eyes soak in the sight of him, and she feels a smile of her own tugging at the corner of her lips.

He’s the picture of perfect ease, sprawled across the entirety of their bed with one arm behind his head and the other draped lazily across his stomach. And there is something about him looking so completely relaxed that makes her affection for him surge and deepen.

“Comfortable?” she asks with a teasing raise of her eyebrows.

“Very,” he hums before lifting a flirtatious eyebrow of his own and smirking at her. “Care to join me?” 

“Hmm,” she muses pretending to ponder his request. “It’s a tempting invitation.”

And it is a _very_ tempting invitation. She knows firsthand what it feels like to nestle in against him and listen to the song of his heart. She’s pretty sure she could stay curled up against his chest and listen to its melody until the end of time. Never tiring of the way his warmth wraps around her and seeps in through her skin until her very core is alight with the peace he brings her.

_But she also very much enjoys teasing him._

So instead she uses her new trick to remove the makeshift pillow from behind his head, giggling when it reappears in her arms at the same instant that Killian’s head drops the small distance to the floor.

He lets out a tiny shout of surprise before lifting his head and giving her an indignant look that is more comical than anything.

He grumbles to himself as he sits up. “Bad form, love. Taking a man’s pillow.”

This only succeeds in making her laugh harder and she throws the pillow back at him, smiling when it hits him square in the chest.

He lunges for her suddenly, and with a squeal Emma jumps back trying to escape his reach, but he’s too quick. Killian catches her wrist and pulls her down to their little haven of blankets with enough speed that she gasps as she lands on top of him.

“Now what am I to do with you?” he muses as he tightens one arm around her and brings the other hand up to brush away the hair that has fallen in front of her face, tucking it behind her ear with a gentleness that makes her heart thrum with sudden warmth.  

She can feel the solid thump of his own heart against her ribcage and she’s close enough to make out the faint smile lines at the corner of his eyes.

“I can think of a few things,” she teases, skimming her nose against his before leaning back slightly and biting at her bottom lip. 

“Is that so, my darling?” he smirks. A playful challenge shining in his eyes that has her giggling again as he rolls them over until she’s pressed against the soft tangle of blankets.

He silences her laughter with his lips, a quiet growl coming from his chest as he deepens the kiss, teasing her tongue with his own. Emma wraps her arms tightly around his neck in an attempt to bring him even closer, savoring the way his strong body feels pressed against every inch of her own.

When they break apart for breath Killian doesn’t wait to begin lavishing the column of her throat with heated kisses, working his way up to the spot behind her ear that has her lashes fluttering closed in complete bliss.

Liquid fire spreads through her veins as he returns his attentions to her lips. The heat spreads under her skin and settles like blazing embers in her stomach. Her entire being alive with flames. 

Killian pulls away mid-kiss, and with a moan of protest she chases after him. Emma feels the air of his quiet laughter against her kiss sensitive lips, and with a pout she drops her head to the blankets beneath her.

“What?” she asks baffled.

“Any particular reason…” he pauses, and trails his fingers down her arm, Emma shivers as he entwines their hands together. “That your hands are glowing?” He brings their joined hands up to her line of vision and sure enough a blinding light is emanating from her palm.

“Oh,” she gasps sitting up abruptly and withdrawing her hand from his grasp. She fists her hands and tries to quench the dazzling light but it just continues to seep through her closed knuckles. “Sorry, I don’t know why this is happening.” She tries rubbing her hands together but still her magic doesn’t fade.

She’s not sure what’s happening. She’s never had a problem _stopping_ her magic before.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Swan.” Killian gathers her in his lap and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “It’s just your magic.”

She huffs in frustration and tucks her hands into her chest, closing her eyes and focusing on making it stop. With incredibly inconvenient timing the air begins to hum and with her powers already on overdrive the intensity of the energy builds too quickly and a searing pain shoots through her temples and ripples down her spine.

Crying out in pain she curls in on herself until the lingering sting caused by the sudden burst of energy fades.

“Emma?” Killian runs his hand up and down her back, the worry clear in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she gasps, straightening her back before she opens her eyes. She sighs with relief at the absence of any bright life shining from her hands.

“Emma, what was that? Are you—“

“I’m fine. I promise.”

The pain has never been that intense before and it makes her a little uneasy.

But it’ll be fine. _She’ll be fine._

She’ll just lay off her magic for a day or so. She’s probably just worked herself up too much, not taking into account that this is all relatively new to her and she probably needs to ease herself into it.

Killian’s still staring at her with his brow drawn in concern and his eyes stormy with anxiety, so Emma gives him a reassuring smile and begins running her fingers through his hair.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she promises again. His frown only deepens and so with a sigh she places a chaste, and hopefully comforting, kiss to his lips. “I’m still figuring out how to control it. It just got a little excited that’s all.”

“How often has that happened? Whatever caused you pain—has it done that before?”

“Not like that.” She starts rubbing at his arm because the storminess still hasn’t left his eyes. “But it was probably just a fluke. Absolutely nothing to worry about.”

He gives a small nod but he looks far from convinced.

She tries changing the subject to distract him from his anxious thoughts. “What do you say we get up and do something productive today? I don’t know how wise it is for us to stay so close to the spaceliner for much longer. There’s bound to be some chemical vapors in the air that are bad for us or something.”

“I was thinking much the same thing earlier,” he agrees. “If we can find higher ground we can take better inventory of our surroundings and decide the best direction to head.”

His mood is still dampened with worry and so Emma jumps to her feet with a little too much enthusiasm. Convinced that if she’s cheerful enough perhaps he’ll stop brooding.

She grabs his hand and tugs him to his feet. “Let’s get started then.”

* * *

Higher ground as it turns out means scaling the spaceliner. It’s a relative easy climb with plenty of handholds and ledges. Killian insists on climbing behind her, though she’s not sure he could actually do anything were she to fall.

By the time they reach the top Emma is breathing hard and her muscles are burning from the exertion. The top of the spaceliner is large enough that it provides a stable platform to stand and move around without fear of falling over the edge.

 The wind is stronger now that they’re higher up—it whips at her clothes and causes her hair to fly in tangles around her face. She reaches up to gather her wild curls and pulls them over her shoulder, holding them in place.

She finally takes a moment to look at the landscape around them, and her breath catches in a quiet gasp.

_It’s stunning._

The richness of the colors is almost surreal, like some exquisite painting—a masterpiece that could only be crafted by the greatest artist. For a moment she forgets why they’re up there in the first place. Lost in the way the river bends with the rolling hills, mesmerized by the way the clear sharp blue of the water contrasts against the deep green. It stretches on for miles until it disappears inside a thick forest with trees that expand farther than she can see. Behind her are the mountains they came through, majestic and foreboding in the sheer height of them, and she’s amazed they ever made it through them. In the other direction the rolling hills eventually flatten out and stretch on and on until they reach what looks like a large body of water that she can only see if she squints her eyes against the brightness of the sun.

She feels Killian wrap his arms around her from behind and she leans back into his embrace, settling in against his chest.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispers.

“Aye, it is.” He presses a kiss to her hair and together they continue to look out at the horizon.

It hits her then—that they’re not just looking for a direction to head, but they’re looking for a place _to live_.

She’s not as scared of the thought as she expected herself to be.

“Where should we go?” she asks turning around to face him. His hair is windswept, sticking straight up on one side and she smiles as she futilely tries to flatten it.

He doesn’t look down at her but continues to squint at the distance as he examines their options. “We could go back to the mountain? There are more possibilities for shelter there and it’s close enough to the spaceliner just in case rescue ever does come.”

She turns and looks at the mountains in questions, and she can’t explain it but she feels uneasy, her instinct telling her not to go back. “I don’t know…” She lets her gaze fall to the river and follows its path to the forest. The humming of the planet picks up as she looks in that direction, and maybe she’s being ridiculous but she takes it as a sign that they should head that way.

“We could follow the river,” she offers. “I’m sure there are plenty of places to find food and shelter in the forest, and it’s still close by.”

He nods at her suggestion, silently deliberating. “Alright, the forest seems like a good option. And following the river will guarantee us water.”

“It’s settled then.” She lifts up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. “Let’s go find ourselves a home.”


	17. Chapter 17

They spend the better part of the rest of the day getting ready to leave. Emma’s many trips inside the spaceliner had provided them with much need supplies, but it’s just a little too much for them to reasonably carry with them. So they spend hours organizing everything into piles separated by what they need and what they can do without.

Emma finds herself smiling as she watches Killian methodically divide and categorize everything. He mutters quietly to himself every so often, periodically taking something out of the “keep” pile only to put it back a few minutes later.

She swears he spends a solid three minutes with two nearly identical pots in his hands. Holding them out in front of him as though weighing their differences, before finally tossing one into the pile that is getting left behind and placing the other amongst the supplies they’re keeping.

She’s not surprised he’s being so particular about this. He did have a sensibly packed survival pack when they landed after all. And it’s not as though they can take everything with them.

Gathering the large pile of clothes she’d finished sorting through and folded, Emma walks over and places them with the other supplies before making her way to Killian. He doesn’t look up when she approaches, still focused on his task at hand. So Emma simply steps behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder.  

“I think we should keep the rope,” he says more to himself than to her, his gaze staying firmly on the piles he’s so meticulously dividing.

“Rope is important,” she hums, placing her cheek against the space between his shoulder blades and breathing a contented sigh.

He turns to face her then, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck as he smiles down at her. “I think we’re about finished. We just need to pack everything away and then we can get a few hours of walking in before nightfall.”

Emma scrunches her nose at him, and he chuckles gently before pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“I hate walking.”

“I know, love,” he laughs again. “But I’m optimistic that this endeavor won’t take nearly as long. Besides…the sooner we start the sooner we can stop, right?”

“Right. And then can we never spend this much time walking ever again? How are we going to pack all of this anyways?”

Killian tilts his head towards his pack that’s now lying empty next to everything else. “I figured the heaviest things can go in my pack, as they’ll be easier to carry that way,” he explains. “And the lighter things we can stuff in the two laundry bags.”

“Think it will all fit?” she asks a little skeptically. She’s sure they can get it to _fit_ , but whether or not they can get it to fit and not weigh a thousand pounds is a different story.

He tilts his head to the side, his eyebrow arching in mock disbelief. “I’m offended you doubt me, Swan. I assure you I can make it work.”

She rolls her eyes and presses up on her tiptoes to give him a brief kiss. Killian’s laughter vibrates against her mouth and she emits a giggle of her own when his lips chase after hers as soon as she begins to draw away. Tightening his arms around her waist he lifts her ever so slightly— her toes barely skimming the grass as he continues kissing her for just a moment longer.   

Once her feet touch the ground again she licks her lips and steps back, letting her hand slide down his arm and wrapping her fingers around his. Her eyes never leave his as she takes a step back and there’s a familiar softness in his gaze that never fails to make her heart race.

“Alright, Lieutenant,” she gives his hand a gentle tug and pulls him with her to the supplies in question. “I’m ready to see these amazing skills in action.”

* * *

It takes a while to get everything packed away, especially since they end up redoing it a few times—trying to find the best way to organize things in order to keep their load as light as possible. They end up tying the cooking ware to the outside of his pack and it all looks a bit ridiculous, but it’s efficient and that’s all they need.

They’re bringing all the food of course, along with most of the bedding and clothes, the rest of what they take comprises of odds and ends that will be the most useful.

As Killian predicted there are still few hours of daylight left, so they gather their newly packed belongings and begin walking towards the forest—using the river as their guide.

It’s the first time they’ve walked without a specific destination in mind and it’s a little unsettling, but Emma is happy to finally get out from underneath the shadow of the spaceliner. Ever since she realized there was nothing inside that could help them get home it’s been nothing but a towering reminder of everything they’ve lost—a gravestone that marks more than just the thousands of lives that were taken when it crashed.

And though they’ve decide to move on, to move forward and take a step into the unknown by trying to find something more permanent, they’ve also decided that it’s best if they don’t stray too far from the fallen _Swan._

Just in case.

But at this point Emma is doubtful help will ever come. If anyone at home knew where they landed they would have been here by now. But it’s been too long. And now they’re nothing more than a spec amongst billions of star systems—not even the unfailing faith of her mother can beat those odds.

But she’s made her peace with this and as she laces her fingers with Killian’s, she can only hope he’s made his too.

* * *

It’s the end of their third day walking and Emma sits in front of the fire with a blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She watches as the stars blink to life one by one, countless pinpricks of light that illuminate the slowly darkening sky.

Killian returns from his quick trip to the river just as the last of the sunlight slips beneath the horizon. He smiles as he lowers himself to sit beside her and hands over the freshly filled canteen.

She takes a long draught before passing it back and scooting a little closer and resting her head against his shoulder. She sighs happily when Killian wraps his arms around her and nuzzles his nose against her hair, inhaling deeply before pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“We should reach the forest tomorrow.” His voice is barely above a whisper, as though hesitant to break the peaceful silence they’re wrapped inside. “From there it just depends on how long it takes to find somewhere to stay.”

She hums in assent and nestles herself a little deeper into his embrace.

_A home._

It feels so strange to think that this is what they’re actually searching for. And she has no idea what it’s going to be, or how they’re going to build it but she’s struck once again that _this_ —this thing here with Killian is more than likely the rest of her life. And though he is beyond anything she ever hoped to find in someone, she knows that circumstances may have rushed things. That there is still a lot they don’t know about each other.

But the thought doesn’t tie her stomach in knots like it has in the past. She feels nothing but ease as she leans against him—the steadiness of his heart beating against her and the even rhythm of his breathing calming her soul in a way she doesn’t think she ever experienced until she met him.  

“Killian?” 

“Hmm?” he answers simply, turning his attention away from whatever thoughts he was lost in. 

“Will you tell me something about you? Something I don’t know?”

He remains silent for a second. But he begins trailing his fingers along her arm and it lets her know he’s not uncomfortable with her question.

“Aye, of course, love. What is it you want to know?”

She shrugs and sits up a little straighter, turning and looking at him. “I don’t know. Anything.” His eyes flick back and forth as he looks at her and she can see the flicker of the flames dance in their reflection. It only serves to make is eyes seem even brighter, more alive than they already are.

“Tell me,” she says after sudden inspiration smiling widely at him. “About these heroic actions you seem to be so well known for.” 

He bites at his bottom lip and tilts his head at her curiously. “I would’ve assumed you’d already heard that story, Swan.”  

“Well yes,” she agrees. “But only the basics, and not from you.”

He laughs and gives his head a small shake. “There really isn’t much to tell. I did no more than any of my fellow shipmates would’ve done.”

“I find that hard to believe. From what I’ve heard it was quite brave.” Her smile widens when he scratches at the back of his head. And she’s sure that if there was just a little more light she would see his cheeks reddening as a result of her praise.

He clears his throat and turns his gaze to the flames. “It was naught but a simple rescue mission. Some of my men had gotten in a spot of trouble when we engaged with an enemy ship, and I…well I don’t like to lose a sailor.” His eyes lock with hers again and theirs a distant trace of pain that she suspects might have something to do with his brother, but it’s gone as soon as he blinks. “I convinced my captain to return for them and headed the mission myself. Ended up overpowering and capturing the bloody coward that had imprisoned them in the first place.”

“Blackbeard wasn’t it?” She remembers when it happened. Remembers how relieved her parents were, as the Dark One had been using Blackbeard as a tool to wreck devastation in parts of the kingdom.

“Aye. And pretty soon I was being awarded with ridiculous finery and honorary trips aboard luxury spaceliners.” He waves his hand aimlessly through the air as he says this, emphasizing how unnecessary he finds all the attention.

His demeanor suddenly shifts after a breath and he smirks at her wickedly, leaning in as though he’s about to tell her the most important secret. “There was, however, an unseen advantage to all the needless pomp.”

“Oh really?” she asks, quite certain she knows exactly where he’s going with this. “And what might that be?”

His lips brush deliciously against her ear as he whispers. “Meeting stubborn…” he kisses at the space beneath her ear and Emma shivers, tiny goosebumps rising on her skin. “Bloody beautiful…” his lips graze up her cheek as he presses another kiss against the corner of her lips. “Princesses.”

He kisses her fully then, his fingers softly brushing under her chin, tilting her head up as he seeks better access to her lips.

Emma smiles when she pulls away, keeping her forehead against his. “We should find some way to thank Blackbeard then.”

“Aye, love,” he chuckles lowly and kisses her again. “That we should.”

* * *

The sun is just past mid-sky when they reach the edge of the forest the next day. More than anything Emma’s been looking forward to the shade the trees will provide, but it’s not relief from the heat that she feels the second she steps through the tree line.

The air starts its familiar humming, but it begins more abrupt and instantaneous than she’s ever felt it.

It’s _louder_ but not _unpleasant_.

It’s not causing her pain like it does when it builds and becomes too strong. But the suddenness of it catches her off guard enough that she pulls to a stop; Killian continues on a few feet before noticing her absence.

“Swan?”  Killian turns to her, his brow furrowed. “What is it?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t do anything for that matter. Just continues to stand there blinking and resisting the urge to take a step back out of the forest to see if the humming will stop as suddenly as it started. Killian says her name again but she barely even hears it.

“Emma?” he asks a third time, his tone unsure. He takes a measured a step towards her and reaches for her slowly.

His touch is light but Emma jumps back inhaling sharply. When she finally looks up at him, Killian’s expression is a mix of confusion and concern, and it doesn’t fade when she offers him a weak smile.   

“It’s nothing,” she promises shaking her head. It most likely is _nothing_ and she’s just being paranoid. “I just… uh…” she falters and fails to find the words that will explain her odd behavior. “I just got a little distracted.”

He doesn’t look convinced and the creases in his forehead only deepen as he looks at her, his eyes anxious.

Looking down at the forest floor, Emma takes a quick breath and begins walking again— doing her best to ignore the fact that the humming doesn’t seem to be stopping. Killian watches as she passes, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth, biting back whatever it is he wants to say in response.

She knows he wants more of an answer, but all she can give him is a brief, “Come on,” when he fails to follow after her.

* * *

She swears it’s been close to two hours and the humming hasn’t relented. It’s relatively mild in comparison to what she’s felt the last few times she’s used magic, more of a constant undercurrent that doesn’t seem to have an end. But as the minutes drag on it’s becoming more and more like an itch deep beneath her skin that she can’t seem to scratch.

And it’s driving her insane.

She knows Killian knows something is off. It’s obvious in the way he keeps looking at her only to huff in frustration and not say anything. Not that she can blame him. She’s been nearly silent since her strange little incident at the beginning of the forest, and they haven’t gone this long without talking since those first few days after they crashed. 

But she’s distracted and maybe a little on edge, and she wouldn’t be able to explain why this is making her so uneasy anyway.

She soon realizes, however, that remaining silent about the incessant energy thrumming through the air isn’t going to remain an option for much longer.

It happens once they reach a point where the river, which has slowly been thinning to more of a narrow stream, splits and diverges off in separate directions. Killian doesn’t make a hassle out of picking a direction, choosing to follow the stream on the left without so much as missing a step.

Emma doesn’t make it so much as three feet in the same direction before jerking to a stop, the laundry bag falling from her hands as she hunches over. White hot pain similar to what she experiences when drawing on too much of the planet’s energy shoots across her temples.

It’s nearly incapacitating and she has to bite her lip to keep from crying out as blackness creeps along the edges of her vision. Swaying slightly she squeezes her eyes shut and takes shallow breaths through her nose until the pain subsides. 

The sudden onslaught ends almost as quickly as it begun, but Emma remains motionless a few seconds longer before reaching for the dropped laundry bag and looking up in search of Killian.  

He isn’t visible, the thick foliage that sways in the slight breeze making it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of her.

With a deep sigh Emma resituates her hold on the laundry bag and goes to follow him but she only makes it one step before agony zips through her head and down her spine again. Curling in on herself she curses under her breath. But just like before the attack on her senses ends in one abrupt instant. The after effects linger this time though, her head throbbing and her ears ringing.

Emma doesn’t dare take a step forward, unwilling to trigger another round. “K-Killian?” Her cry comes out more as a gasp, the heaviness of her breathing stealing her voice. Clearing her throat she tries again and this time her yell slices through the forest air. “Killian?”

It takes a minute but soon Killian comes crashing through the branches. His eyes darting back and forth as he searches for the source of her distress. Realizing that there is nothing physically threatening her, he takes large strides to stand in front of her, eyes scanning her body for any sign of injury.

“You’re shaking. Emma what is it?” His hands rub up and down her arms before wrapping around her, squeezing her to his chest. His hold is a little too tight throwing them off balance, and as he sways into her Emma is forced to take a step back.

She stiffens but the pain she expects doesn’t come.

Pulling herself from Killian’s arms she takes a few slow steps backwards.

_Nothing happens._

All she feels is the pleasant humming that’s been never-ending since she first stepped foot in this messed up forest.

“Love?” Killian’s eyes reflect a tormented type of confusion.  He doesn’t reach for her again, only taking another cautious step towards her as if she’s a startled doe ready to bolt at any unexpected movement.

“I think we’re going the wrong way.” She takes another couple of steps back to test her theory. And maybe she’s crazy but she knows that walking back the way they came keeps the humming energy agreeable while moving forward sparks a burst of pain.

“Going the wrong—“ Killian splutters, running a hand through his hair. “What they bloody hell is that supposed to mean, Swan? You’re scaring me. What is going on?” 

“It just means I think we’re going the wrong way.” She shrugs trying to play it off, and he scoffs at her answer. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t tell him, especially when it’s obvious he doesn’t believe her.

“You know, Swan, I’m actually quite perceptive and there is more to this than you’re letting on. You’ve been acting strange since we walked in this damned place.”

He reaches for her again, this time lifting her hand and running a soothing thumb across the back of it. Emma watches the path his thumb takes across her skin for several seconds before looking up and meeting his troubled stare.

“Please just tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

“I can’t go that way,” she breathes.

Killian’s mouth drops open, making him look even more confused. “You _can’t_ go that way?” His eyes flick back and forth between hers, desperate to understand.

Emma sighs and tries to explain everything as simply as she can. “Ever since we came in here the energy I’ve been drawing on for magic, you know the humming? It’s been going nonstop. And just barely as I was trying to follow you… it um… it sort of attacked me?” Her voice lifts in a question at the end because it sounds ludicrous even to her own ears.

Killian’s eyes go wide. “It attacked you?”

“No, no, no.” She hurries to assure him. “Not anything serious, it just sort of causes an intense, sharp pain in my head.”

Killian gives her a look as though he doesn’t quite agree with her sentiment that it’s nothing serious. ‘“Emma—“

“Okay, that sounds bad too,” she cuts him off. “But really I think as long as we are going the right way it doesn’t hurt me and so it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about? Swan, this thing is _hurting_ you. I’m sorry but I don’t think it’s wise to try and follow wherever it’s trying to take you. We should leave the forest.”

He looks as though he’s ready to put a knife through anything that touches her, but this isn’t a threat he can see, let alone feel. Emma doesn’t really trust whatever is going on either but at the same time she has a feeling that it’s not going to be resolved in a manner quite as simple as leaving. But it’s worth a shot.  


	18. Chapter 18

Killian never thought it was possible to hate _a forest_ of all things, but he sure as hell hates this one. They are able to walk three or so steps without anything happening but as soon as they try to walk in the direction that will take them _out_ of this blasted place, Emma jolts to a stop.

His heart all but stops as he watches her bend over in obvious agony, the heel of her hands pressing into her eyes as she inhales a sharp breath through her teeth.

He’s been through a lot in his life and he can count on one hand the number of times something has made him feel completely powerless—and nothing has ever made him feel more helpless than he does right now, watching as Emma Swan curls over in pain from a force he cannot see.

Running his hand along her spine and brushing her hair back from her face, Killian murmurs soft words of comfort into her ear, unsure of how to offer anything but the assurance of his touch and his voice as she takes heavy breaths and waits for the pain to pass.

After what Killian swears is ages, Emma finally straightens and slowly turns to face him. The water rimming her eyes feels like a knife in his chest, a piercing ache that rips straight through his heart. Reaching up to cup her cheek he uses his thumb to wipe away a stray tear as it falls.

He sighs as Emma leans her head into his hand, the weight of their predicament heavy on his shoulders. He doesn’t want her in pain, but he doesn’t trust whatever the bloody hell the planet is trying to do with her either.

“Maybe,” Emma finally voices after a moment of silence, “if you try to help me walk during one of the attacks? Even if it lasts until we get out of here. I can manage it as long as the pain doesn’t—“

“Swan, no.” He interrupts her shaking his head, baffled at what she’s suggesting. “I’m sorry but that is a horrible idea. It took us hours to get here. I am not going to put you through hours of pain—and who’s to say it’s not going to get worse if we try to force our way out?”

He can feel his own worries and frustration rising, burning their way through his insides. His hands begin to shake and he takes a step away from her and runs both through his hair, gripping at the ends and resisting the urge to kick at the nearest tree.  His chest rises and falls rapidly and he tries to control the rage he feels towards the planet and its strange magic. But each breath that fills his lungs only fuels his desperate frustration.  

He doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to fix this, doesn’t know how to help her.

And it’s killing him.

“Then what do you purpose we do? You don’t want to follow it, but you don’t want to fight against it. Those are our only options, Killian.” 

“I don’t know!” He shouts through his teeth, tension radiating all the way up to his jaw as he clenches it and tries to swallow the anger clawing up his throat. Emma’s eyes widen at his outburst and its then that Killian notices how exhausted she looks. Her eyes overcast with the fatigue that’s dripping from her hunched shoulders and it’s almost immediate the way the anger inside him melts, dissipating like mist under the sun. Replaced by the need to gather her in his arms and offer her the rest she needs.

With a sigh he wraps his arms around her and presses a kiss to her hair. Closing his eyes he inhales deeply and lets the scent of her calm him. “I don’t know,” he repeats softer, a murmur that’s all but lost in the soft tangles of her hair.

Killian feels her shrug against him, “Let’s just try it.”   

He hates this, and wishes there was some way for him to take the pain she feels and suffer it himself. “We stop the second it’s too much,” he accedes already knowing they’re going to regret this.

She nods and tries to give him a reassuring smile but he can’t even manage half of one in return.

He watches as Emma steels herself, she takes in a lungful of air and holds it for a few seconds before blowing it out in one slow breath. She takes a step forward and he can pinpoint the exact moment the pain hits her. She flinches and grits her teeth, automatically recoiling from the unseen assailant, but she nods her head, keeping eye contact with him and encouraging him to keep them going.

Standing by her side he keeps one arm wrapped around her and uses the other hand to grip at her elbow. Trying to use the least amount of pressure possible Killian pushes her forward, urging her to walk. Together they take a few steps and it seems to work until Emma tenses further and resists against Killian’s efforts. She lets out a cry of pain that is quickly followed by a chocked back sob.  

Killian stops immediately. Panic surging through him as Emma collapses against him, no longer holding up her own weight. Lowering them to the ground he pulls her onto his lap and holds her tight against him. Her quiet whimpers and shallow breathing tell him she’s still conscious. He runs his hand up and down her back, just as before, and waits with her until the moment passes.

This one takes far longer, but when it does pass Emma presses her face into his neck and stays there as she gains control of her breathing. Her eyelashes brush against his skin as she blinks and he can feel the wetness of the tears that cling to them. She makes no effort to move and so he rocks her gently, periodically pressing kisses to the top of her head

“I don’t think that’s going to work,” she whispers after a few minutes of silence.

Killian barks out a humorless laugh, finding none of this remotely funny. “No, definitely not.”

She pulls back from her place nestled against his chest and Killian’s heart constricts when their eyes meet. The echoes of what she just experienced are still etched across her face, still present in her eyes, and Killian wants nothing more than to take her and hide her away from whatever the bloody hell is going on. 

“I guess we follow where it wants us to go,” she says, her voice quiet and matter of fact.

Killian nods solemnly, as much as he loathes the idea he sees no other option at this point. He makes his way to his feet, moving carefully as he pulls her up with him. She sways slightly once standing on her own, but assures Killian she’s fine before he even has the chance to ask.

She doesn’t move as Killian gathers their supplies, swinging the pack onto his shoulders and taking hold of both laundry bags in one hand.

Emma holds her hands out expectantly, but instead of handing her one of the bags he takes her outstretched hand and threads their fingers together.

“I’ll hold them,” he tells her. Because despite how pretty she looks with the wind twisting her hair into a delicate frame around her face, her eyes are still rimmed with red and she looks a bit like the only reason she’s standing is because someone stacked her bones upright for her.

Emma gives him a grateful smile and an affectionate squeeze of her hand. “It started once we followed the stream on the left—so let’s try the one on the right? At least I hope that’s where it wants us to go otherwise I fear I may be stuck in this one spot for the rest of my life.”

Killian grimaces at her dry attempt at humor but nods nonetheless. “Aye, the right sounds good.”

But despite their chosen direction neither of them moves. They remain motionless, like a suspended breath at the edge of a cliff. Waiting for the inevitable moment the wind will carry them over and praying there’s something at the bottom waiting unseen to catch them.  

Brave and strong as always, his Swan is the first one to take a step. It’s hesitant and tense, and she approaches the grass in front of her like she would a bed of nails. But as she shifts forward nothing happens. The relief between them is palpable—seeping all the way through to their joined hands—and Emma looks up and flashes a grin at him as she takes another step forward.

He keeps easily besides her as she follows the stream on the right, and every step they take without inciting an attack seems to make Emma’s smile grow wider and wider. “It’s working!” she exclaims, all but jumping in how relieved she sounds.

Killian tries his best to keep his expression positive, but he has a hard time counting bending to the will of anything, even some strange unseen energy, just so it won’t hurt you as a victory.

But Emma’s no longer in pain and that’s all that matters, so he squeezes her hand and smiles even though he knows it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aye, love. It’s working.”    

* * *

Five.                                           

That’s the number of times Killian feels Emma jerk to a sudden stop and fold in on herself as pain rips through her. Five is the number of times they have to change the direction their walking to keep the buzzing he can’t feel complacent.

But five is not counting the number of times Killian holds Emma as they wait for the attack to pass. Because five does not count the number of times they have to take a wild guess as to which direction their supposed to go. If they’re lucky they get it right on the first try—but they usually aren’t lucky.

And as the hours wear on so does Emma’s energy. He can see it in the way she sags against him, in the way she takes a little longer to straighten after each onslaught, and he wonders if with every additional attack the pain lingers with her a little longer.

It’s not anywhere near nightfall but he’s not sure Emma can go much farther—and even if she could, he _knows_ he can’t handle watching her endure any more for the day. So before they can continue on in the newest direction he drops both laundry bags and his pack to the floor.

"What are you doing?” Emma asks, but her question lacks even the slightest trace of strength, every word sounding as though it takes an immense effort to even make it past her lips.

“I’m making camp,” he says simply, already pulling blankets out to make their bed, “and you’re going to rest.”

“Killian—“

He’s bent over busying himself with getting things ready but he doesn’t even need to see her to know she’s about to protest—he just spreads another blanket out and waits for her to continue.

“It’s too early to stop.”  

He hums in response and fluffs his handiwork one last time before stepping over the bed to begin making a clearing for the fire.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she half whispers to herself and Killian’s ears have to strain to catch her words. Her frustrated sigh drifts over to him along with the forest’s soft breeze, soon followed by the sounds of her settling herself down on top of the blankets.

He’s spinning a stick into another to try and spark a flame but he pauses for a second and looks up at her. She sits with her arms folded tight around her legs, knees pulled up against her chest, and she watches him with tired eyes. He can’t help but think she looks so small sitting in the middle of their bed with her arms wrapped around herself as if they’re the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart.

“You’re not fine.” He returns his attention back to trying to light the fire, cursing when he continues to get nothing but a tiny, twisting stream of smoke. “You’re exhausted and wherever the bloody hell this planet is trying to take you is just going to have to wait while you rest. And if I could just get this blasted fire to light then—” the stick he’s relentlessly drilling into the other snaps in half and he curses again, tossing it the forest floor.

“Here,” Emma murmurs with an easy flick of her hand. Tall, blazing flames erupt instantly from the gathered tinder, the heat that emits from it resembling a fire that’s been burning for hours rather than seconds.

Killian stands and brushes his hands off on his pants. “Thanks, love.”

She gives him a gentle smile and a little shrug before pulling back a few of the blankets and stretching herself out beneath them. Slipping off his shoes Killian crawls in and joins her. She scoots closer and Killian doesn’t hesitate to gather her to his chest, her leg tangling between both of his. He feels her lips press against the space above his heart before she rests her head against him.

“Where do you think it’s leading us?” she asks, her quiet question nearly drowned out by the soft melody of the forest. It intertwines with the sound of the leaves as they brush against each other in the wind, and with the never-ending song of an unseen bird that twitters somewhere in the endless branches above them. Her voice its own type of music, and it creates a song he’s sure his soul has memorized. 

He tilts his head down and buries his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. “I don’t know. I just hope it’s not anywhere that’s going to get us killed.”  

He feels her body lift with a tiny shrug. “I don’t know… I don’t think it’s taking us anywhere dangerous.” She’s overcome by a long, sudden yawn, causing her next words to float out as a sigh, “Just a feeling I get.”

Killian doesn’t respond right away, but rests his chin atop her head as he contemplates what she said. He’s not sure he would feel the same if he were the one it was sending ripping pain through. “I hope you’re right, Swan.”

She hums and squirms a bit against him, burrowing deeper into his embrace, and it doesn’t take long for her breathing to slow and even out as she falls asleep. Killian spends the remainder of the evening tracing nonsense patterns against Emma’s skin, lost in thought as the world around him darkens and he finds himself staring up at the dark canopy of trees and wishing he could see the stars.

-CS-

The sensation of something feather light tickling his cheek is what pulls Killian back to consciousness. He screws his eyes shut tighter and brushes away the offending object. A comforting weight leaves his chest and when he blinks his eyes open he’s greeted with the vision of Emma, her hair a right mess, leaning over him. He realizes the culprit responsible for waking him when one of the blonde tresses that hangs in a curtain around her face skims his cheek again.

Reaching up he tucks her hair behind her ear and cups her cheek. She leans her head into his hand and beams down at him, her smile bright and beautiful.

“Good morning, lieutenant.”

“Good morning, my princess. And how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she shrugs. He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. “Okay, maybe a little tired still, and possibly a little sore—but much better than yesterday.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He says as he pulls them both up to a sitting position. “Let’s make some breakfast, shall we?” He gives her a quick kiss and makes it half way to standing before he changes his mind and sits back down. He brings his hand up and brushes his thumb across her cheek bone, meeting the brilliant gaze of her emerald eyes. “On second thought I’ll make breakfast, you stay here. Best not to anger the mysterious buzzing.”

He kisses her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her lips and delighting in the way she hums when they pull apart.

Breakfast is a quick thing. He heats the first thing he finds and they eat it in relative silence. Like breakfast, Killian does most of the work when they break camp. He’s hesitant for Emma to walk anywhere unnecessary, fearful of trigging an otherwise avoidable attack. She must feel the same because she doesn’t protest. Choosing to fold some of the blankets but keeping relatively to the exact same spot the entire time.   

When it’s time to leave he takes her hand and they share a long, heavy look. Burdened with the shared realization that this is nothing either of them expected when they set out to find a home. He squeezes her hand and the corner of her mouth lifts slightly before she drops her gaze and begins walking in the direction they determined was safe the day before.  

* * *

As it turns out, the days walking goes a lot smoother than it had yesterday, for which Killian is grateful. Wherever they are being led is now more or less a straight shot, meaning they only have to stop and change direction a couple of times—and far less often. 

As a result Emma is far happier and takes to periodically swinging their joined hands as they walk.

“Maybe this means we’re almost there,” she says, hope filling her voice and permeating each step she takes. He almost thinks that if he wasn’t holding her hand she’d start dancing down the verdant forest path.   

“Aye, perhaps.”

He’s still anxious about where they’re being led, but it’s hard not to feel affected by Emma’s happiness, and for the first time the tinniest part of him feels like maybe they aren’t being led to something with malicious intent.

But only a small part of him—the other part is still highly distrustful of the entire situation.

It’s not even ten minutes later when they find themselves walking into a very large clearing and what they see has them both freezing on the spot, mouths dropping open.

_People._

People are milling about between handmade shelters and stamped out campfires. And not just one or two, but what looks like a small village teeming with the lives of fifty or more individuals. Some sitting and casually talking, while others are up and about working on one thing or another, there are even a few small children whose laughter rings through the air as they chase one another.

“ _Impossible—_ ” Emma whispers, the shock in her voice mirroring the feelings that are buzzing through his entire being. _How is this possible?_  

“Emma?!”

Both of their heads whip to the right, searching for the source of the shout. Standing a good twenty feet away are two individuals that Killian has only met for two very brief moments.

“E-Elsa? Ruby?” Emma’s cry is strangled, a gasp that settles somewhere between a sob and laughter.

In the time it takes him to blink, Emma has ripped her hand from his and is running at full speed towards her once lost friends, golden hair flying behind her. Killian watches with a smile and tears burning behind his eyes as she launches herself at them. They catch her in a jumbled hug, all three women holding on to each other in a desperate embrace.

Emma throws back her head in pure joy, her elated laughter sailing over to him with the forest breeze.

As sweet as any music.   


	19. Chapter 19

“You’re alive!”

Emma’s eyes have somehow turned into an endless rain of tears, and she can hardly see because of it, but her heart is also near bursting with how happy she feels.

_Alive._

Elsa and Ruby are alive. And half of her is scared that this is some dream. Some trick of the planet’s. But here they are right in front of her. Elsa’s braid might look a little more haphazard than its usual sleek sophistication, and Ruby somehow looks even fiercer under the touch of nature, but here they are, looking just the same as when she last saw them on the spaceliner. 

With a laugh she pulls both of her life-long friends into another squeezing hug. Hands clutching them tight, as though they’ll disappear if she lets go for even a second.

“How are you alive?” Emma asks once she finally untangles herself from their embrace. The joy that’s overflowing from her leaves her voice breathless. And she wouldn’t be able to wipe the smile from her face if she tried. 

“How are _you_ alive?” Ruby echoes as she looks her up and down, her smile just as bright.

“Emma, we looked everywhere for you.” Elsa interjects, her eyes glistening with her own tears. “The crash site, the spaceliner, every fallen pod we could find. We… oh Emma, we thought you were dead.”

“I escaped with Killian. Our pod—it landed _miles_ from the crash site. We watched _The Swan_ fall. We didn’t think there were any survivors—I mean, we had hoped there might be. But it took us ages to reach the spaceliner and by the time we got there it was nothing more than an empty tomb.”

“Killian?” Ruby asks as she leans a little to the side so she can see behind Emma, searching for the man in question. She’s not really surprised that out of everything she said, _that_ is what Ruby pays attention to. “As in _Lieutenant_ Killian Jones?” And when she looks back at Emma it’s with a raised eyebrow and a secretive smile.

“Uh…yeah.” Emma answers simply, turning around to see Killian watching her with a soft smile on his lips. She motions for him to come over and then spins back around to face her friends. She knows they’re probably dying for her to elaborate, seeing as the last time they saw her she was trying her hardest to push the man away, and now she’s spent every second with him since the crash. They’re bound to have questions, but she figures there will be time to share stories later. “We ran into each other when everything went to hell up on the spaceliner. I probably wouldn’t be alive without him.”

“I think you have that backwards, Swan.” She feels Killian’s hand at her lower back as he steps up beside her, and she doesn’t miss the way Ruby’s wolf eyes seem to zero in on the contact, her smirk only increasing. “I know for a fact that I wouldn’t be here without you.”

She leans into his touch, not really caring what Ruby and Elsa infer from their closeness, and looks up to find his eyes still swimming with the concern he’s been harboring for the past couple of days. So she isn’t surprised when he lowers his head, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispers words he means to be just for her to hear. “Are you alright? The pain…has the humming stopped?”   

She’d been so caught up in the discovery that there were other survivors, and that Elsa and Ruby were among them, that for a moment she’d completely forgotten about the ominous and demanding buzzing. But now that she thinks about it, she realizes that both the pain and the humming itself stopped the moment they’d entered the clearing.

“No, it’s gone,” she says, giving her head a small shake. “Killian the buzzing stopped as soon as we got here. This must have been where it was leading us!”

Emma laughs a little in relief. It had been a painful and undesirable method for sure, but whatever magic was swirling around this planet couldn’t have led them to a better place. 

Killian seems relieved at the news, a grateful sigh escaping his lips as his tense stance relaxes just the slightest bit. But there is still a sense of brooding in his features and she thinks he’s probably thinking too much about the whole thing. Looking for a threat that’s no longer there.

“We’re not the only survivors anymore.” She bumps her hip into his to try and get him to smile again, and when his eyes make contact with hers she’s happy to see the dark cloud in his expression dissipate. His brow smoothing and his eyes softening, and she’d like nothing more than to press up on her toes and kiss him, but Elsa’s next question completely captures her attention before she can.

“Buzzing?  You feel a buzzing? Like, in the air and on your skin?” Elsa’s eyes are wide, and she gives Ruby a quick look before turning back to Emma. “I thought I was going crazy. No one else can feel it.”

“I’ve felt it on and off since we landed. But more recently it’s gotten a little intense.”

Killian lets out a dry chuckle. “A _little_ intense? Darling, I think it got more than a little intense.”

Elsa looks confused. Her delicate features furrowing as she glances between Killian and Emma, searching for some form of understanding. “What do you mean _intense_?” she asks with a tilt of her head. “I’ve only ever felt a soft sort of humming… do you mean it’s gotten stronger?”

“Well, sort of,” Emma answers with a shake of her head. She really doesn’t feel like going into unnecessary details at the moment, not when it seems so unimportant in hindsight. “A day or so ago it started leading us. I’d feel pain whenever we started going in the wrong direction—but it honestly wasn’t a big deal.” She hurries on to continue when her companion’s eyes widen in surprise. “It led us here didn’t it? But anyways, I learned how to channel it with my magic. You have magic too and that’s probably why you can feel it, Elsa.”

“This is all very interesting and what not,” Ruby interjects as she reaches down to pick up one of the laundry bags Killian had set down. “But we can talk about magic later. Let’s get you guys settled and then we can share all the juicy details about our time apart.”

She leads them farther into the encampment, and as they pass several people they’re greeted with a mix of curious looks and kind smiles. As they walk Emma reaches for Killian’s hand and threads their fingers together. She gives it a light squeeze and smiles up at Killian when he returns it with one of his own. It had been just the two of them for so long, and though she would’ve remained completely happy if it had stayed that way, it’s nice to find other survivors.

“Alright, here we are.” Ruby stops them in front of one of the handmade shelters, beckoning to it with her free hand. “This one was mine, but I can move my stuff into Elsa’s until we can make another one.” There’s a sly, knowing look in her eyes as she continues. “Are you guys wanting to share one? Or do you want to bunk in with us, Emma?”

Emma rolls her eyes. She’s pretty sure Ruby is enjoying her little hunt for information about the two of them a little too much. “We’ll share.”

Ruby shrugs as though she was expecting it—and is not absolutely dying to know more details about their relationship—and ducks into the shelter to collect her things.  

Elsa and Ruby leave them to their own devices to get their things settled, and Emma can’t help but feel a little giddy as she steps into their little shelter. This is it. This is the _home_ they’d set out a few days ago to find. No more walking, no more uncertainty. They have a place to settle and people to settle with, and it feels good.

Killian’s already started pulling out some of their belongings, but Emma’s too excited to not relish in the moment a little longer. So she slides into Killian’s view and beams up at him as she wraps her arms around his waist.

“I guess we can technically say _welcome home_ now,” she says with a teasing tilt of her head.

Killian laughs softly as he drops whatever he was holding and places his hands at her hips. “Aye, that we can.” He looks around the small room for a moment before looking back at her and quirking an eyebrow. Little butterflies flutter in her stomach and she doesn’t think she’ll every get over how handsome he is. “It’s quite quaint isn’t it?”

She laughs and wraps herself tighter around him until she can rest her head against his heart. “Maybe one day soon we can upgrade.”

It’s true, the shelter isn’t very large. There’s probably only enough space for them to make their bed and have just a little extra walking room, but it’ll do for now.

Killian hums happily and pulls away just enough so that he can look into her eyes. She’s never had anyone look at her the way he does. Like she’s everything he’ll ever need. She swears his eyes light up and shine brighter than the stars of every galaxy she’s ever traveled through when he looks at her.

And it’s overwhelming in the best way.   

He doesn’t say a word as he tips her chin up with his finger and lowers his head to press his lips to hers.

She loves this. Loves kissing him. Loves that each kiss feels new, as his lips explore and search her own. Every time feels like they’re discovering another perfect way their lips fit together. Yet, at the same time, it feels as though the movement of his kiss is a familiar dance she’s always known.

When their lips part, Killian gives her nose a gentle nudge with his own and pulls away. Cherishing the moment, Emma keeps her eyes closed and sighs before allowing her eyes to slowly drift open.

She watches as Killian licks his lips and bites back a smile before he lifts his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing a line across her bottom lip. “I can manage things in here. Why don’t you go spend some time with your friends and I’ll come join you in a little bit.”

“Are you sure?” she asks while smoothing her hands up his chest and over his shoulders before interlacing her fingers together behind his neck. She can’t deny that right now a huge part of her longs to go out and spend hours catching up with Elsa and Ruby. But another part of her is also quite content exactly where she is. Not to mention that she doesn’t want to burden Killian with setting up everything on his own.

“I’m quite sure. Reuniting with friends you thought were once dead is a big deal. I know you want to be with them.” His voice is just a soft whisper of silk, and it sends shivers down her spine.

“I also want to be in here with you,” she muses as her fingers begin twirling with the bits of hair that curl at the nape of his neck. And maybe she’s lingering in here with him on purpose. She knows she’ll be bombarded with questions about her relationship with Killian the second she exits this little shelter. And maybe she just wants to hold on to this quiet moment with him a little longer.

“Well, love, I’m never opposed to spending more time with you, so stay if you wish. But I’m sure they’ve missed you just as much as you have missed them.” 

She knows he’s right. And she really has missed them. It’s also probably better to get any embarrassing questions out of the way while he’s in here doing other things anyway. “Alright,” she sighs. “Though just so you know the first thing to pass Ruby’s lips is going to be something ridiculous like whether or not you’re a good kisser.”

A playful grin spreads across his face at her words and he raises his eyebrows a few times at her flirtatiously. “Is that so? And what’s your answer going to be?” 

She can’t help but give him a mischievous look of her own as she smirks at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Emma squeals in delight when Killian suddenly wraps his arms around her and lifts her completely off the floor, all while pressing a hungry kiss to her lips. There is much more heated passion in this one than their previous kiss and she’s helpless to the little moan that escapes her.

When he sets her down she’s completely breathless and maybe more than a little dazed as she blinks up at him.

“That one was for reference.” He says simply as he smirks at her.

“Reference?”  

“You know, for when Ruby asks if I’m a good kisser.”

She laughs. “Ah I see. Well I think I may need another one then.” His eyebrow lifts in question and she gives a tiny shrug. “Well, you see the more experiences I can draw from, the more accurate answer I can—”

She’s interrupted by the sweetest of kisses, and all she can do is hum in happiness.

* * *

The soft orange glow of dusk greets Emma when she steps out of the tent. And despite the warm color of the sky, she can already feel the air getting colder. It nips at her skin and sends a shiver down her spine. This is usually the point of the day where Killian or herself will light a fire and then he’ll either hold her as they sit in front of it, or they’ll curl up together beneath their blankets to keep warm.

It seems like a lifetime ago when she used to insist on sleeping on the other side of the fire from him. Dooming herself to a near sleepless night with muscles that ached in the morning from the tension they held while she shivered for hours on end.

She spots Elsa and Ruby lounging in front of their tent, a small fire blazing between them. She reaches them at an unhurried pace and settles herself cross-legged in front from them.

“That was quick,” Elsa observes.

Picking up a random twig, Emma spins it between her fingers and shrugs. “Killian said he would get everything set up. He wanted to give me a chance to come out here and be with you guys.”

Elsa lips tip up in a kind smile. “That was nice of him.”

“So about Killian…” Ruby practically sings. “If I remember correctly the last time we saw you, you were pretty set on avoiding all entanglements with the man.”

Emma tries her hardest not to roll her eyes. She was expecting this after all, and Ruby’s eagerness is something she loves about her, she’s never one to wait patiently when she wants to know something. “We crash landed on an isolated planet together, and have spent every second together since. I doubt even you would resist.”

“Oh I know I wouldn’t resist,” Ruby says with a wolfish grin and a playful raise of her eyebrows.

This time Emma does roll her eyes, and takes the stick in her hand and throws it at Ruby’s head for good measure. Ruby’s laughter is the only response she gets and Emma can’t help but smile slightly in return.

“We’re happy for you, Emma,” Elsa adds as Ruby’s laughter dies down. “He seems good for you.”

-CS-

They don’t have much in terms of possessions, so it doesn’t take Killian much longer to get everything squared away after Emma leaves. He takes his time making up their bed, because it’s the first time they won’t have to immediately destroy it the following morning. After that task is done, organizing everything else around the small room takes practically no time at all.

He finds Emma relaxing by a fire with her friends. There is barely a slip of sunlight left above the horizon, but the rays from the fading light have a way of bringing out the warmer tones in Emma’s hair. She’s far more mesmerizing than the sunset, and just the sight of her warms his soul like the sun warms his skin.

It’s not the first time he realizes he’s in love with her. And that he has been for some time.

She smiles up at him, her eyes crinkling in what looks like pure happiness, when he sits down next to her. “Hi,” she whispers before leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder.

He presses a gentle kiss against her hair as she nestles a little closer. “Hello, my love.”

He mostly listens throughout their fireside conversation, and he would be lying if he said most of the time his attention wasn’t on Emma. He speaks up once or twice as Emma recounts the journey they’ve had since the spaceliner, but for the most part he leaves her to do the talking.

They learn how Elsa, Ruby, and everyone else at the encampment survived. Turns out everyone that survived had been in a pod. No one who remained in the main ship lived, and majority who were strapped away in pods didn’t either. Their pod had still been attached to the spaceliner has it had descended towards the planet, only being ripped away as the ship picked up speed. Luckily their pod was one of the few that deployed its parachute. Most weren’t that lucky.

The survivors at the spaceliner had spent their first week searching for survivors and trying to find a way to send out communication. When they realized, much like Emma and himself had, that it wasn’t possible, they’d gathered what they could and started walking until they settled here. 

He knows that he and Emma definitely had a longer, and at times more challenging, journey, but he’s grateful that their first days after the crash were relatively peaceful. He can imagine only too well what sort of chaos and despondency would have saturated the air surrounding _The Swan_ directly following its fall. He can see it in the way Elsa’s eyes reflect a deep pool of sorrow when she talks about those first days. Haunting memories that he’s fortunate enough not to suffer.

“Most of us think that rescue is unlikely at this point, especially with no means to send out any communication,” Elsa continues after she’s caught Emma and Killian up on everything that’s happened. “Though there is a small chance, your parents will stumble upon us. I can’t imagine they’ll ever give up looking.”

Emma sighs, “I don’t think they will either. Though I hope at some point they do—just because I don’t want them to spend the rest of their lives making themselves miserable because they can’t find me. I want them to be happy.”

“Knowing your parents,” Ruby says as she pulls her gaze from the flickering flame to look at Emma. “I think they’d rather hold onto the hope that you’re still alive and can be found, than think that you’re lost to them forever.”

Killian feels Emma fidget against him before she sinks a little further into his embrace. He knows thoughts of her parents make her sad. He knows all too well the pain that comes from knowing you’ll never see a loved one again.

“Hey,” Ruby continues in a brighter tone, and it’s obvious she’s trying to lighten the mood. “At least you’re done hiding away on spaceliner after spaceliner. The Dark One can’t reach you here. Your parents can stop looking for that dagger.”

Killian straightens just the slightest, listening intently. He knows very little of the connection Emma has to the Dark One, and his interest is piqued by every piece of that puzzle he can collect.

“I somehow doubt that was what my parents intended.” There’s an underling trace of irritation beneath Emma’s tone, and the hardness of it matches the tension he can feel in her muscles.

“Dagger?” Killian asks curiously, he’s aware that Emma is getting upset but it’s the first he’s heard of such a thing.

“The Dark One’s dagger can control him,” Elsa supplies before she gives a brief reprimanding look to Ruby that Killian would’ve missed if he’d blinked at the wrong time.

“It’s not important anymore.” Emma stands and wipes the dirt from her pants. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

He watches as she opens the flap of their tent with a little too much vigor and disappears inside it.

“I think I’ll retire as well,” Killian tells the women next to him, turning to smile politely at them briefly before standing up and following after Emma.

He enters to find her already tucked away in their bed, her back to him. He sighs as he sits on his side and takes off his shoes before pulling back the blankets and slipping beneath them.

Once he’s situated comfortable on his back he immediately feels Emma turn around and tuck herself against his side. He wraps an arm around her and traces the ridges of her spine as they lie in silence.

“I miss them.” She finally murmurs in the darkness, and he can hear the tears in her voice.

He pulls her a little closer and rests his chin atop her head. “I know. And you always will. But missing someone is part of how we remember them, even if it hurts.”

Silence settles over them again for a few minutes, the only sound is Emma’s quiet sniffles as she wipes at her eyes.

“It’s too dark,” she sighs.

Killian chuckles softly and her sudden change of direction, “Too dark?”

“It’s too dark in here,” she clarifies. “I guess I’m just used to falling asleep under the stars now. I kind of miss it.”

Killian presses a kiss to her hair and hums. “We’ll have to make it a tradition to periodically go out and sleep under the stars then.”

“I’d like that,” she sighs.

It feels like hours before Killian feels like he’s tired enough to actually fall asleep, and he can tell by the pattern of Emma’s breathing that she stays awake as well. But neither of them says anything as they lie together and simply enjoy the comfort that being with the other brings.


	20. Chapter 20

Killian wakes to the shifting of blankets as Emma rolls over and presses herself into his side.

“It’s cold,” she murmurs, her voice husky from sleep as she burrows deeper into him. Killian jumps a little when she presses her cold nose against the hollow of his neck, but chuckles at the way she sighs happily. He resituates himself and wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer and burying his nose in her hair.

She tucks her toes into the space between his legs next, and he jumps again. Her toes are just as frigid as her nose.

“Bloody hell, you’re freezing, love.” His breath puffs out in front of him in a white cloud, testifying to the drop in temperature that took place during the night.

“And you’re warm,” she hums, nuzzling even closer.

Killian lifts his head from his pillow and peeks down at her to find that her eyes are still closed as if, along with warmth, she’s seeking just a few more minutes of sleep. 

Dropping his head back against his pillow, Killian stares up at the tent’s ceiling and rubs his hand up and down Emma’s back absentmindedly. 

As of late, Killian’s found himself cherishing the mornings. Even if they just consist of him holding Emma and feeling the relaxed rhythm of her breathing as she sleeps. If he’s being honest with himself, it’s taken him a few days to adjust to living at camp—he was so used to always being alone. And though being with others is nice, Killian finds that more than anything he misses the hours upon hours he used to have with Emma all to himself.

Which is why Killian is never one to rush them out of bed in the morning, and it’s never hard to convince Emma to linger just a little longer under the covers. A few lazy kisses are more than enough to get her to stay.

But this morning, the cold might just be enough to keep them here all day, the heat between them much more welcoming than the unforgiving and frigid air.

He’s not sure what type of weather or seasons this planet goes through, but the air has been getting increasingly colder each day and he’s noticed an unmistakable layer of frost clinging to the ground each morning.

He figures it’s only going to get colder, which means they need to find a way to not only insulate their shelter, but find a way to supplement their wardrobe with warmer clothes. Because as much as he loves the idea of cuddling with Emma for warmth all day long—it’s not a very practical answer in the long run.

Thoughts on how to buffer the inevitable winter bounce around his head as he skims his fingers up and down Emma’s spine while she sleeps. It’s probably a good half an hour later when he feels Emma stir against him, and looking down at her he watches as she yawns and blinks her eyes open.

“Have you ever been hunting?” He asks before she’s even fully awake, his fingers never stopping their path up and down her back. He figures animal skin is one of the surest and easiest materials they’ll be able to find to protect them from the oncoming winter.

He feels Emma’s soft laughter vibrate against his chest. “Hunting? No, I can’t say that I have.” And she sounds just a little baffled at being asked such a strange question first thing in the morning. 

“Well,” he muses, “it’s getting colder and I figure we’re going to need a little more than these flimsy shelters to keep us warm. And I’m sure the camp would appreciate some fresh meat—so what do you say, Swan? Come hunting with me?”

She props herself up by resting her forearms on his chest and looks down at him. Killian smirks a little at the way she looks with her hair a tousled mess and her head tilted to the side as she stares at him and blinks. And it’s quite endearing to watch as she tries to get her sleep muddled brain on the same page as the conversation he sprang on her before her eyes were completely open.

“I don’t know…” she deliberates. “My experience with the wild animals here hasn’t been all too pleasant if you remember.”

And he does. He remembers all too well the panic in his own heart when she’d been cornered by that wild cat.

But that was under completely different circumstances.

He reaches up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. “Yes. But this time _we_ aren’t going to be the prey.”

“This is true,” she hums as she begins playing with the collar of his shirt. Warm silence envelopes them, and Killian finds himself distracted by the way Emma’s soft features spread into an amused smile. It’s not the first time he’s found himself wishing he knew what she was thinking. But he doesn’t have to wait long to discover just what it is that has her so entertained. There’s an almost teasing quality in the way she bites at her lip as she traces the edge of his shirt, her fingertips brushing a tantalizing path against his skin before she finally speaks again. “But how exactly are we going to catch anything bigger than a bunny? I’ve seen your snares, they’re not that big.” She looks up at him through her lashes; the mischief is clear in both her eyes and her smile.

He rolls his eyes at her teasing and contemplates kissing the smirk right off her lips. “Please, Swan. Those snares were never meant to catch anything bigger than a _rabbit._ Your doubt wounds me.”

“Mmhmm, sure it does.” Her fingers move from his shirt to his neck and then slide up into his hair as she brings herself closer to him. And Killian’s suddenly distracted by the way her nose brushes against his own and by the way her breath tickles across his lips as she speaks. “When do you want to leave?”

“Uh…whenever you…” He’s not sure he remembers how to form a complete sentence, and he’s not sure that he minds. Not when all he can think about right now is closing the slight distance between their lips.

His eyes drift close as he leans towards her, but his lips barely skim against hers when he feels her suddenly pull away. Confused, he blinks open his eyes and furrows his brow as he looks up at her.

She’s staring at the tent wall behind him with far too much intensity than the blank wall warrants, and her forehead crinkles as her mouth gapes open. There’s a sort of internal curiosity in her gaze that Killian can’t place. 

“Emma?”

When she doesn’t answer, doesn’t even so much as acknowledge that she heard him, Killian feels the beginnings of concern start to swirl in his stomach. Sitting up a little so he can look her in the eye, he tries asking her again. “Emma, what is it?”

Her eyes dart around for a second before they finally lock onto his. But still she doesn’t say anything, and the longer it takes her to respond the more his anxiety storms inside him.

Smoothing a hand up her arm, he squeezes her shoulder gently, trying to be patient as he waits for her to say something. _To say anything._   

“It…it’s nothing really,” she finally stammers out, licking her lips when Killian gives her an incredulous look, because there’s no way this is _nothing._ “I just felt the planet’s magic again for a second, that’s all.”

_That’s all?_

She’s felt the planet’s strange humming practically since they first landed and he’s only seen it make her pause like this once before. Right before the thing practically tortured her in order to get her to go where it wanted.

Killian’s heart hammers a disjointed rhythm against his ribcage and he suddenly has trouble swallowing. And as much as he tries to hide his sudden fear, his voice comes out pathetic and quivering. “Like last time? Before it led us here?”

“Yeah, a little like that.” And Killian can’t believe how nonchalant she’s being about all of this. Sure it led them to other survivors, but who’s to say that wasn’t a decoy just to get them to trust it?

Silence beats between them for the space of several seconds as he continues to stare at her and fumbles with a way to keep his panic under control as well as formulate a plan to keep her safe from the planet’s magic.

“You know what? Let’s go hunting tomorrow. I’ve got a few supplies I need to find first.” Because the last thing he wants to do now that the planet has decided to ramp up its magic voodoo again, is take Emma out into the forest where it was able to wrap its claws around her the first time.

“Okay?” Emma agrees, but her voice rises at the end, her confusion at his demeanor clear. “It really was nothing, Killian.”

“Right. Nothing.” He pulls himself into a sitting position, Emma slowly following his lead. “Let’s just get ready and then go find something to eat, shall we?”

He can feel Emma staring at him as he grabs his shoes from their place at the end of the bed and tugs them on.  She still doesn’t move from her spot as he searches their sparse belongings for a jacket and slings his arms through it, pulling the thing on with a little more vigor than necessary.

“I’ll be outside,” he says looking over his shoulder to find Emma still staring at him, the little lines that form between her eyes when she worries about something in plain sight.

 And maybe she thinks he’s overreacting, and maybe he is. But he’s not willing to risk it. He’s not willing to risk her.

She might trust whatever led them here. But he sure as hell doesn’t.

-CS-

Emma walks out of their tent several minutes after Killian’s sullen departure. It had taken her a little longer to find clothes warm enough to greet the day with. And despite the extra layers, the icy air still seeps through her clothing and bites at her exposed skin.

She pulls down the sleeves of her jacket until the fabric covers her hands and then folds her arms and tucks her hands into her sides as she shivers against the cold. Looking up at the sky she sees nothing but gray—a mixture of both clouds and fog that block out any warmth the sun has to offer this morning. The hazy air presses down on the earth like a shadow, and it makes everything much darker and feel much earlier than it actually is.

Scanning the area near her, she spots Killian a few feet away, he’s sitting on the log they’d brought over a few days ago to give them somewhere else besides the ground to sit on, with a fire already blazing. With a heavy sigh she begins the few slow steps it takes to reach him and lowers herself down to sit next to him.

“Hi,” she breathes in greeting even though they’ve only been apart for a few minutes.

He gives her a quick glance before returning his attention to the breakfast he’s cooking over the flames. “Hi.”

He’s brooding. And she knows he’s just worried about her, and she can’t fault him that even if it is an overreaction. But it’s not like she’s in any danger or anything.

She sighs again and scoots closer to him until her body is pressed against his. Threading her arm through one of his, she rests her head against his shoulder and lays her other hand on top of his forearm. “It really was nothing, Killian. I mean, I felt it with the same strength as I did last time but it only lasted a few seconds. Nothing else accompanied it—no pain or anything.”

She feels him release a long exhale before he shifts and presses a kiss to her forehead. Emma lets her eyes close as his lips linger on her skin.

“I just worry about you,” he whispers as he pulls away.

“I know,” she says simply. And after what happened in the forest she can’t blame him, even if she believes in her heart that the planet’s magic doesn’t have a malicious intent towards her.

They sit in peaceful silence and let the warmth of the fire wrap around them, Killian only moving from his spot by her side to occasionally check their breakfast. Soon sounds of the rest of the camp waking up fill the air, but except from a brisk greeting from the grouchy old man whose tent sits across from theirs, they’re left alone.

It’s not until after they’ve finished eating that Ruby and Elsa come waltzing up to them, arms filled with what she can’t quite identify.

“Hey, you two,” Ruby sings in greeting before dropping the load in her hands. Emma can now make out a tarp and some rope mixed in with other random odds and ends. “Elsa and I were just about to make my tent, because as much as I love rooming with her, I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate my tendency to sprawl out while sleeping.” 

Elsa rolls her eyes, but the action loses all vitriol when accompanied with her soft smile. “I told her she could stay. I think it has more to do with the fact that she _wants_ her own space again.”

Ruby shrugs, not denying it before reaching down into her dropped pile and picking up a hammer. She tosses it lightly towards them and Emma flinches covering her face, but Killian stretches his arm out and catches the tool with ease.

Emma looks up and shoots a glare at her. She can’t believe she really just threw a _hammer_ of all things at them.

Ruby just grins and shrugs again. “What do you say handyman? We could use some muscle.” She winks at Killian, laughing when the tips of his ears turn pink.

Emma smiles to herself, fully enjoying the fact that she can see his blush spread down the back of his neck. She doesn’t think she’s really every seen him get embarrassed and she kind of loves it.

Killian scratches at the back of his neck and huffs a bit trying to play off his obvious blush and Emma’s smile only grows wider. He gives the hammer a superfluous twirl and stands, grabbing her hand as he does so and easily pulling her to her feet with him.

“Alright then, show us where you want your tent.”

* * *

They work together putting up Ruby’s tent, Emma often holding the branches in place as Killian ties off the tarp. She finds herself smiling as she listens to him quietly explain to her what type of knot he’s using and why he’s using it. She loves when he shares what he knows with her, loves the quiet passion in his explanations.

It’s during one of these quiet lessons that Emma feels the buzzing again. It comes sudden and unexpected, the strength of it hitting her out of nowhere. It feels like a swift wind that rushes through the campsite and blows through her hair and tugs at her clothes. The humming feels even more intense than it did this morning, but much like earlier it doesn’t linger—departing as rapidly as it enters.

It’s not until she feels the tension radiating off Killian besides her that she realizes she must have frozen when she felt it.

“Was it the humming?” he asks. And when she looks up into his eyes the same storminess that was there this morning is present.

She smiles in an attempt to reassure him and reaches for his hand to squeeze his fingers. “Same as this morning, I promise it’s not anything to worry about.”

She can tell by the look in his eyes that he doesn’t necessarily agree with her sentiment.

And she doesn’t think it’s anything _dangerous_ to worry about at least. But she’d be lying if she said these quick and abrupt appearances haven’t made her curious. Is it trying to lead her somewhere again? Is it trying to tell her something different? Should she listen?

_Will she have a choice?_

And as much as she knows that Killian hates the humming, hates that it hurt her, she can’t help but trust it. It led them to survivors didn’t it?

As the day goes on, the humming continues to get stronger. Each time it appears in a burst more powerful than the last, and each incident lasts longer than the previous. And she tries not to show any signs that she feels it, but she knows she fails each time Killian stiffens beside her. But after the episode at Ruby’s tent he doesn’t say anything. He only clenches his jaw and gives her a tight smile when she threads her fingers through his.

But each rush of humming that she feels only serves to increase her curiosity. Especially when she considers that, as far as she can tell, Elsa hasn’t felt any of these strange bursts of magic.

Well, either she hasn’t felt it, or she’s much better at hiding this sort of thing than Emma is. But she doesn’t think Elsa is good at being _that_ stoic, as much as she pretends to be.

But the fact that she doesn’t think Elsa can feel it only confirms to Emma that the magic is trying to reach _her_ for some reason.  And as the day wears on the need to figure out what that reason is builds inside her chest until it saturates every breath she takes. She’s practically itching to head into the forest again and see if that spurs it into giving her more definitive directions. 

It’s while she’s sitting at the campfire next to Killian, Ruby and Elsa have long since retired for the night, that Emma feels the strongest wave of humming since the day started. And this time, the smallest level of pain accompanies it, zipping up her spine like a quick jolt of electricity. She cringes, and because Killian is sitting so close to her he notices.

“It’s been happening all day, hasn’t it?” His question is almost resigned. He sighs and throws a stick he’s been holding into the flames before looking at her. “Is it hurting you?”

She shakes her head, because with the exception of this last one, it really hasn’t.

“Don’t try to follow it, Swan. Don’t seek it out. Please, for me, just let it be.” 

She gapes at him, amazed that he seems to know the exact thoughts that have been running through her head for the last hour. But despite the tormented look in his eyes, Emma finds herself frustrated that he’s so hell-bent against the planet’s magic.

She has magic—so it’s not like magic in and of itself is anything to worry about.

_And it led them to survivors for heaven’s sake._

“Killian,” she sighs, trying to infuse softness in her tone in a hope to soothe his fears. “I really don’t think it’s anything to worry about. _I trust it._ It led us to survivors.” She pauses as something she hadn’t considered before invades her thoughts. “What if it’s trying to show us a way off the planet? A way home?”

And she hadn’t really thought of that as a possibility before, but as she says it she feels an excitement build inside her that’s hard for her to tapper down.

_What if it’s trying to help them get home?_

Killian drops his head in his hands and rubs his palms down his face before he looks up at her again. She can tell he’s upset, and she sits up a little straighter, preparing herself for whatever words he throws at her to convince her she’s wrong. She’s not going to let this drop, not when there’s a possibility that this is how they get home.

“I’ve never told you how my brother died.” His voice is so low that she almost doesn’t hear him. But when she does register his words she feels all the righteous defensiveness in her evaporate. This is definitely not what she expected him to say.

Water gathers in his eyes and Emma’s feels her heart break at the way he sucks in a breath to try to keep the tears at bay.

“Killian—“

“He was always so sure of himself,” he interrupts her, “and it’s a trait I always admired. Always aspired to have…but he could also be a hardheaded fool.”

He swallows, and Emma can see the physical effort— _the pain_ —he’s enduring to relive this. She places her hand on his thigh, rubbing her thumb back and forth across his leg as she waits for him to continue.

“We were on a mission. Sent to retrieve something of value. But something happened as we journeyed that held up our crew and we were at least a day’s journey ahead of the rest of our men. We’d been warned by the locals of the extreme danger that surrounded what we sought. I begged with Liam to wait—to wait until our men caught up with us so we’d be safer. But he…he pulled rank on me. Told me that as his captain he was giving me two options—I could come with him now, or wait alone until the rest of our crew showed up.”

His gaze had drifted towards the burning flames during his tale, but he looks at her again, and in the orange light of the fire Emma watches as a single tear slides down his cheek. And her chest _aches_ with a tightness that crawls up her throat and threatens to choke her. She feels her own eyes begin to water and she wishes that she could take his pain, suffer it herself a thousand times over so he wouldn’t have to feel it anymore.

“I went with him, of course. But you see, Emma, he ignored every sign of danger, every warning we were given, he ignored all my pleadings and went headfirst into danger anyway.” He pauses and drops his gaze to his hands. “I held him as he died. Felt him take his last breath. And not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.”

Killian reaches for her hand, and she squeezes it desperately but doesn’t say a word, sensing that he’s not done with what he has to say.

“Emma, I don’t trust this. It’s hurt you already, and I can’t…I _can’t_ lose you. Not the same way I lost my brother. Please, love, don’t go after this. If it gets worse, if it starts hurting you, we’ll revaluate, we’ll figure it out together. But don’t chase it if you don’t need to.”

His blue eyes pierce hers as he pleads with her, and she’s helpless to do anything but nod in response.

“Okay,” she finally whispers, reaching up to brush the tear from his cheek.

 Killian’s relief at that one word is practically tangible. He smiles a soft, broken, but grateful smile and leans forward to press a kiss to her lips. 

* * *

Emma tries to ignore the humming the next day—she honestly, truly does. But the more she ignores it the more incessant it becomes. The intensity of it screams at her and by midday she spends less time _not_ feeling the buzzing than she does feeling it.

By the time she eats dinner she has a headache, and it’s only spurred on by an occasional burst of magic that sends a familiar pain shooting up her spine.

She knows Killian notices, there’s no way he doesn’t. But he doesn’t bring it up and she’s not sure if it’s because he trusts that he said enough last night, or if he’s waiting for her to tell him it’s getting worse.

It’s not until that night when she’s lying next to a sleeping Killian that she considers the option of following it out into the forest again. She knows Killian doesn’t want her to, and she doesn’t want to hurt him, especially not after what he shared with her, but it’s been over an hour and the humming hasn’t stopped. And the bursts of pain are becoming more and more frequent. If this keeps up she’s not going to get any sleep.

Sitting up she turns and looks at Killian. She can barely make out more than his silhouette in the darkness.  But she can see his chest rise and fall with his quiet breathing and can make out the way pieces of his hair fall in a lazy mess across his forehead.

_He’s going to hate her when he wakes up._

But this is something she feels like she needs to do, and so leaning over she presses a light kiss to his forehead. “I’m _so_ sorry,” she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut as she grimaces. She knows _upset_ isn’t going to be enough to cover how he’s going to feel come morning.

Extracting herself from the blankets as carefully as she can so she doesn’t wake him, Emma locates her shoes and jacket and pulls them on before quietly slipping out of the tent and jogging towards the forest. 


	21. Chapter 21

It’s still pitch black in the tent when Killian blearily opens his heavy eyes just a crack, he can only make out a few ambiguous shadows in the darkness before exhaustion has his eyes falling shut again. He’s groggy and tired, and the thoughts in his brain are a little muddled as he tries to piece together what has him waking up in the middle of the night. 

It’s only when he shivers that he realizes that the culprit for his lack of sleep is the freezing temperature. Groaning, he pulls his blankets tighter around him and then blindly reaches his arm out in search of Emma—body heat, after all, is the most enjoyable way of generating warmth.

But the only thing his hand finds as he reaches for her, is empty air and tangled blankets. Confused, he drags his eyes open again and continues to pat at the ground beside him as if somehow he’ll find her in the inches of the bed he hasn’t checked. And as the growing panic inside him scatters all remaining traces of sleepiness and his eyes adjust to the darkness, he sees exactly what he was dreading to find, his heart plummeting to rest somewhere near his stomach as he scans the empty tent.

_Emma’s gone._

Jolting upright, Killian’s heart hammers as he throws the blankets off the bed, a futile last attempt to convince himself he’s dreaming, to convince himself that she’s still here and sleeping soundly next to him.

But she’s not, and fear squeezes the breath from his lungs.

He knows exactly where she’s gone—and damn it Emma, he’d asked her not to do this. At the very least he’d asked her not to do this without him.  

Scrambling from their bed, he gropes around in the darkness for his shoes, cursing everything between heaven and hell when he can’t find them. He only makes more of a mess as he throws things about the room in his frantic search. He’s not sure how long Emma has been gone, but he’s scared that he’s already too far behind, scared that he won’t be able to find her. And every second he wastes is a second he can’t afford to lose.

Finally finding his shoes buried beneath a blanket he more than likely tossed on top of it, Killian wrenches them on and then grabs his jacket, rushing out of the tent before he even starts to yank it on.

But in spite of the urgent desperation in which he scrambled to get out of the tent, he pulls to a complete stop once outside. Scanning the perimeter of the campsite, Killian clenches his jaw in frustration. It’s completely encircled by trees, and he has no way of knowing for sure which direction Emma went.

Sucking in a sharp breath through his nose, his eyes continue to dart across the forest’s edge as he wrestles with the decision on where to go. It’s not until his gaze falls on the area where they first entered the forest that Killian releases his held breath in an audible gust of air.

Emma wanted to go _back_ into the forest, and something inside him just knows that starting where they came from is what she would do. And even if it’s not, it’s the only lead he has and he can’t afford to waste any more time.

Praying that he’s right, he pulls the collar of his jacket up to protect his neck from the cold air and jogs towards the edge of the campsite—the sounds of his footprints crunching against the half frozen ground the only sound penetrating the quiet night.

As he enters the forest he immediately begins searching for some sign that Emma was here. He’s grateful that the moon is almost full, as it lends him just enough light to make out his surroundings even with the cover of the trees above him.

He would never boast of having any semblance of tracking skills, his expertise lies with the waves and rhythm of the open sea, not with the dense and smothering confines of the forest. But he’s spent enough time surrounded by this planet’s environment to pick out when something has disturbed it.

Freshly broken branches and slender footprints are his first clue that he’s going in the right direction, and it’s like a heavy anchor is lifted from his chest. He has hope of catching up with her, of finding her before she finds whatever the planet has in store for her.

He runs as much as he can, ignoring the burning in his lungs as he pushes himself forward. More than once he has to backtrack when he loses sight of  her tracks, and each time he does so, he curses his lack of attention and forces himself to run harder to make up for the lost time.

 The trees loom dark and tall above him, a daunting presence that mimics the darkness of his thoughts. He doesn’t know where the magic is leading Emma, but he just _knows_ that what’s waiting for her when she gets there is nothing good. And as much as he wants to shield her from whatever it is, a helpless feeling has started to bubble in his chest ever since Emma started feeling the magic again. It’s like every cell inside him is on edge, as he battles with the feeling that whatever is about to happen is inevitable, as much as he doesn’t want it to be.  

But no matter what, he _will_ keep her safe—even if that means diving headfirst into danger with her.

It feels like an eternity later when he finally sees her silhouette off in the distance. He’s too out of breath to call out to her so he just keeps racing towards her. He can pick out the exact second that she hears him—her body stiffens and she stops walking, and he can almost see the intensity in which she’s listening to the forest around her.

He’s almost to her when she whips around faster than a beat of his racing heart, her hands raised in defense and already starting to glow with the magic she’s summoning. Killian skids to a halt, breathing hard, and watches the recognition dawn on her face.

She drops her hands and straightens her spine. “Killian?”

He forgets in that moment that he’s upset with her, forgets that the last half hour of his life has been nothing but the same fear that gripped him the second he realized she’d left. Forgets everything except the desperate and visceral need he has to feel her in his arms.

He sprints the last few steps to her and pulls her to his chest as though being apart from her for even a second longer is an anguish he can no longer endure. 

She wraps her arms around his neck and he crushes her tighter to him, entwining one hand in her hair and burying his face in her neck as he takes a deep breath. The relief that spreads through him is instant, a wave of cool water that courses through his veins and soothes the panic that had settled inside him.

He made it in time. He found her.

“What are you doing here?” Her question is a muffled sound, caught in the fabric of his shirt, but it grounds Killian in the reality of why he had to follow her out here in the first place.

“What am I doing here?” he asks incredulous as he pulls away from her just enough to look her in the eye. “Bloody hell, Swan.”  

She gives him a sheepish look before dropping her lashes and staring at the forest floor. Taking another deep breath Killian steps away from her and drags a hand down his face.

“Why?” he asks her. He’s trying to understand her headspace, but a part of him is having a hard time even fathoming why she left after he begged her not to.

“It wasn’t stopping, Killian.” She looks up at him and gives him a painful smile as an apology, but there’s a fiery defensiveness in her eyes at the same time. “I couldn’t sleep. It was starting to get painful. And I _know_ you don’t trust it—trust me I know—and your reasons are valid, but Killian, I _need_ to know what this is about.”

Throwing his hands in the air he groans in frustration. “You should’ve told me it was getting worse. I promised we would figure it out together.”

“I know,” she counters, folding her arms and standing firm. “I was worried you wouldn’t let me leave.”

There’s a moment where nothing exchanges between them except a tense stare. Determination shines bright and fierce in her eyes, and he knows she’s going to follow this thing with our without him—there’s no use fighting her on it. So with a sigh, he steps back into her space and grabs one of her hands with a tender gentleness. He’s upset and more than a little frustrated, but it stems from a concern for her safety and that, above all else, is what he wants her to know.

She hesitates, looking at their hands for a few lingering seconds before she softens and threads her fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I wouldn’t have liked it, but I never wanted you to go chasing this on your own. You should’ve wakened me.”

“I know,” she repeats. “I _am_ sorry I worried you.”

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one, love.” He drops his forehead to hers and closes his eyes before asking a question he’s already dreading the answer to. “How bad is it?”

She sighs. “The humming hasn’t stopped since I decided to leave the campsite. And it’s…it’s leading me again.”  

He straightens in one sharp movement, furrowing his brow in concern. “You mean it’s _hurting_ you again.” And it’s not a question, because he knows there’s only one possible way it _can_ lead her—and he expected this to happen, but a part of him still hoped it wouldn’t. If the planet’s so bloody magical, then why can’t it find some other means to lead her? He’s pretty sure a magic glowing trail would accomplish the same thing, and he’d be more inclined to trust it if it wasn’t torturing her.

Emma shrugs as though her pain and suffering is of little consequence and Killian can’t help but grit his teeth. He really hates this.

“I’ll be okay. But there’s really only one way to get it over with,” Emma says, tilting her head towards the dark expanse of trees in front of them. “Shall we?”  

-CS-

Breathing heavy, Emma straightens her spine and shakes off the last echoes of pain still lingering from the most recent attack.

“That one lasted longer,” Killian sighs as he continues to rub a hand up and down her back. “Are you okay?”

She nods and lets herself fall into his chest, savoring the feel of his arm wrapping around her as he presses his lips to her hair.

He’s asked her that same question after every single burst of pain, and she can tell by the way his entire being seems to be saturated in never ending concern, that he’s suffering his own type of agony as he watches her endure every painful assault on her senses.

She closes her eyes and shifts a little in his embrace only for her legs give out a little beneath her. Killian tightens his hold, supporting her weight, and if it weren’t for his arms around her, she’s not sure she’d be able to hold herself upright at the moment.

She’s exhausted.

And thinking back on it, choosing the middle of the night to follow the planet’s humming probably wasn’t the best choice. She hasn’t slept since the night before, and light has been slowly sneaking into the sky for the last hour or so, meaning they’ve spent the entire night out in the forest.

Not to mention the physical toll this is taking on her. Each time she steps in the wrong direction and the familiar pain surges through her body, she feels like her limbs are that much heavier with fatigue.

Hiding her face in the space between his neck and shoulder, she takes a deep breath and lets the smell of his skin comfort her.

“Do you want to rest?” Killian whispers against her hair. “Sleep for a little while and regain some of your strength?”

Shaking her head Emma straightens out and looks up at him. “No, let’s keep going for a little longer. Maybe we’re getting close.” She’s tired but she doesn’t want to stop. Not yet at least.

“Swan—”

“I’ll be fine for a little longer. But if we don’t get there soon I’ll take a break I promise.”

Killian lets out a heavy breath and tips his head back to look up at the heavens. “Is there any use arguing with you?”

“Probably not.” She says softly, reaching up to place a hand against his cheek. He looks back down at her then, and in the blue of his eyes she sees a torrent of anxiety and unease.

Tracing her thumb along his cheekbone, she pulls his head down and rests her forehead against his with gentleness. “I just want to go a little farther—but I _promise_ I’ll rest soon.”

Killian remains silent, but he keeps his forehead pressed to hers and closes his eyes. She knows he’s biting back whatever it is he _wants_ to say, knows he wishes she hadn’t chased after this thing. And she swears he’s going to grind his teeth to dust with the way he keeps clenching his jaw, but they’re so close—she can feel it.

Pulling away from him Emma reaches for his hand and gives him a small smile that he returns only half-heartedly.

“Only a little farther,” she promises again as she rubs her thumb back and forth across the back of his hand.

Steeling herself for her next step she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she places her foot down in a new direction. As soon as the sole of her boot touches the forest ground she feels Killian tense beside her as they wait to see what this step will cost them. Thankfully it comes pain free, and they both deflate with relief and continue forward on their newest path.

* * *

Emma knows they’re nearly there by the way the humming picks up in both speed and vibrancy. It pounds and roars throughout her entire body, a song that rings through her veins and obliterates every other sensation.

She’s never felt it _this_ strong before—not even when it led her through the forest for the first time only days ago.

And as the force of it surrounds her on every side she finds herself wondering if maybe Killian’s been right this whole time—that it’s something dangerous and not to be messed with. Because what she feels now is not some meek and calm buzzing, but a force filled with unmistakable raw power and it’s the first time it really dawns on her how dangerous the consequences of following after it could be.  

But it’s too late to turn back—she’s tumbling towards it no matter what she does.  

A sudden hesitancy to continue forward surges through her and she begins to slow down, almost pulling to a complete stop. She knows there’s no way out of this now, that with the magic sending crippling pain through her with every wrong step she has no choice but to see this through.

But despite the inescapability of it she can’t help but want to prolong the inevitable, so she slows down her steps just the same.

“Emma…”

She looks up at Killian expecting him to ask her why she’s slowing down, only to find his brow furrowed in a confusion she can’t help but think is completely unrelated to the pace of her walking.

“What is it?” her voice is strained and she feels the beginnings of nerves fluttering wildly inside her stomach. The sudden intensifying of the humming coupled with Killian’s strange behavior causes her heart to race with anxiety.

“I…I feel it.” Killian looks at her, his mouth gaped open in shock. 

Emma’s eyes widen, and she swallows. She’s sure she heard him right but she’s not quite sure what to make of it. “You feel it?”

“Aye. The humming…I can _feel_ it.” He looks around him as if he’ll suddenly be able to _see_ it too. “On my skin—right here,” he gestures to his arms as if she doesn’t know what it feels like, as if she hasn’t felt the sensation a thousand different times. “What do you think this means?”

She shakes her head, completely baffled. “I don’t know. It feels stronger here—maybe it’s strong enough for you to feel it now?”

It’s the only plausible answer she can think of. And if Killian, who doesn’t have magic, can feel it, they must be close. And she’s not as excited about it as she thought she’d be.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers. “What is this thing?”

“I don’t have any idea,” she says shaking her head again. And part of her wishes they were back in their tent, sleeping away the early hours of the morning, wishes that she hadn’t dragged them into chasing this thing. 

Licking her lips she looks off into the distance and then back at Killian before expressing her fears. “Killian what if you’re right? What if this thing is dangerous? What if something happens to you? We’ve survived so much, and what if my stupidity is what finally—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Killian interrupts, grabbing her shoulders and ducking his head to look into her eyes. Emma takes a shuddering breath as he rubs his hands up and down her arms. “Swan, I’m not denying that you are without a doubt one of the most stubborn women I know. And heaven knows I wish you would’ve just waited until we talked about this rationally before you went chasing after it in the middle of the night. But whatever this is—I swear to you I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Emma’s eyes dart back and forth between his eyes as she takes in what he says and tries to let his words calm her. But with the way the humming is consuming her senses she can’t help but feel like she’s choking on the disarray of unease and regret inside her.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “I’m sorry I got us into this mess.”

Killian smiles at her softly and lifts his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers skim down the side of her neck and her skin tingles from his touch long after he drops his hand.

And it’s amazing, the way something as simple as his touch can drown out the overpowering sensation of the planet’s humming, but it does, even if just for a moment. And she’s convinced that the feel of his skin against hers is a certain type of magic all its own.

“We’re here now, love. And I’m with you. Whatever happens we’ll face it together.”

Emma swallows and nods keeping her eyes locked with his for a few more lingering seconds, finding strength in the warmth of his gaze before she grabs his hand and continues walking.

As they walk they remain silent, but the air around them is anything but peaceful or quiet. Killian seems even tenser now that he can feel the humming and Emma can think of little else except what they might possibly be walking into.

It’s a little while later when, off in the distance, she can make out a wall of solid rock ahead of them. It’s a cliff side of some sort and she can see that amongst the various cracks and crevices is nestled a significant gap in the rocks surface.

And this is exactly what she doesn’t need—for the humming to take them to a dark and ominous cave where they won’t be able to see what’s waiting for them. But the longer they walk without another attack, the surer she is that this cave is exactly where it’s taking her. 

Killian squeezes her hand when they make it to the opening, giving her a meaningful look before he steps in front of her and leads her inside. And though her heart melts a little that he wants to act as a shield between her and whatever is inside, she wishes he would let her go first for the exact same reason, the last thing she wants is for Killian to get hurt because of her.

Their first steps inside the cavern are in some sort of narrow nature-made hallway, and it’s not as dark as she expected it to be. In fact, at the end of the tunnel the resonances of some source of light shimmers and pulses, beckoning them forward.

With cautious steps, they continue towards the light only to find that the tunnel curves to the left and opens up to a much larger room.

Emma gasps as she takes in what’s in the chamber in front of them. A column of light, pulses and snaps with visible energy in what she can only explain as a rift where the literal space it occupies has been torn apart to accommodate it.

Mesmerized, she drops Killian’s hand and steps towards the blinding light like a helpless moth that’s drawn towards the flames of a fire.

“Do you feel that?” she asks breathless. The air around them his humming with such intensity that she knows without a doubt that the source of it is emanating from the light in front of them. This is it—the source of the planet’s magic that she’s connected to so many times. The source of the magic that helped her heal Killian, that led them to Elsa and Ruby.

She immediately finds herself retracting her most recent fears. There’s no way that something this bright, this stunning, is a danger to them.

Without even thinking about it she raises her hand, inching forward as she seeks to touch it, to see what the light will feel like as it runs through the space between her fingers.

“Hold on a moment, Swan.”

Killian’s hand is suddenly around hers, stopping her. His voice snaps her from her reverie and she jumps a little before turning to look at him.

The line of his jaw is tense and his brows are knitted together in clear worry and apprehension. “Don’t touch it. We don’t know what it could do to you.”

Emma opens her mouth to respond when an unfamiliar voice slithers to them from the edge of the cavern.

“I’d listen to the sailor, dearie.”

Turning sharply towards the direction of the voice, Emma spots the one man her parents had hoped she’d never come across, the reason for her countless stays aboard _The Swan_.

There leaning against the cave wall, arms and ankles crossed like he doesn’t have a care in the world, a wild and sinister smirk contorting his lips, is the Dark One.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little rough but will work out in the end :) also only two or so more chapters left. Thank you so much for reading!

It’s immediate the way Killian’s heart starts pumping a little faster, his veins thrumming with what can only be adrenaline. He’s fought many a foe, and he’s all too familiar with the way his muscles tense in anticipation and his senses sharpen.

The Dark One, in contrast, lounges against the cavern wall like he couldn’t be at any more ease. The disturbing color of his skin seems to glint in the glow of the light still snapping with energy beside them, and his eyes flash with a cruel sort of joy as he looks Emma up and down.

“Well, well, well,” the demon in front of them sings as he pushes himself off the cave wall. “Isn’t this the most _happy_ of coincidences.”  

He skulks towards Emma, his steps slow and calculating, and Killian inches closer to her in response, wishing he had a weapon of some sort to protect her with.

“All this time…all this _effort_ your wide-eyed and disgustingly hopeful parents put in keeping you hidden from me and here you are.” He gestures to her with an excessive flourish of his hands before bringing the tips of his fingers together in front of his face with a manic giggle.

Chills race down Killian’s spine as the Dark One’s laughter fades, the echoes of it creeping towards the dark corners of the cave until they disappear along with any pretense of a smile from the man’s face. All that’s left is a coldness that’s as cunning as it is chilling. 

“And to think,” he says in a low voice his eyes narrowing. “You’re the one who’s _destined_ to be my downfall.” He stalks forward until he’s almost nose to nose with Emma. “You’re just a pathetic little girl that fate has so kindly brought to me when you have nothing and no one to defend you.”

Emma doesn’t so much as flinch away from the fiend, but Killian finds his fists clenching as his eyes dart across the cavern in search of some sort weapon or advantage over the man. There has to be something here he can use.

“That’s what you think,” Emma spits through her teeth. And where there’s coldness in the Dark One’s stare, there is a blazing fierceness in Emma’s, and if it weren’t for the dire situation they’ve found themselves in Killian would be smiling at the way the Dark One flinches back ever so slightly.

Giving his head the tiniest shake, the Dark One brushes his hands down his reptile skinned jacket and composes himself again before the corners of his lips curl up in a disturbing sneer. “There’s quite a bit of fire in you isn’t there, dearie?”

And in a move so fast that Killian feels his heart jump, the Dark One steps forward and leans his head in until he’s close enough to whisper the next part in Emma’s ear. “Shame I’m going to have to _snuff_ it out.”

And with a snap of his fingers he vanishes in a swirl of smoke.

Killian’s eyes frantically search the air in front of him, unease filling him. He lifts his gaze in search of Emma’s and finds her already looking at him, her eyes wide with the same fear that he feels spinning inside him. But before either of them gets a word out, the Dark One’s crazed giggle echoes behind them.

“It’s ironic,” he muses as they quickly turn to face him again. “That out of all the places for me to kill you, I’m going to do it here. I couldn’t have planned it better myself.”

Killian’s heart drops on the word _kill,_ and he immediately steps in front of Emma, determined to put more distance between her and the demon in front of them. “Stop speaking in riddles,” he hisses. “And tell us what the bloody hell you’re prattling on about.”  

The Dark One’s focus, which has been cemented on Emma since he first appeared, slowly drifts over to Killian. “Patience,” he tuts as he walks a little closer to the current of energy beside them and it’s easy for Killian to note the fevered thirst in the man’s gaze as his eyes drink in the light.

“You see, this…rift of magic if you will, is one of very few like it in the entire universe. I spent years searching for one—within it there is more magic, more _power_ than you can imagine. It’s almost an entity of its own, Miss Swan, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”   

Killian’s mind jumps to everything Emma’s experienced with the humming and the planet’s magic, and he knew he was right to think following it was dangerous.

“What does it want with her?” he demands, and he can feel his jaw tightening with dread, because how are they supposed to fight off both the Dark One and this magical source he so clearly covets?

The Dark One laughs again as though enjoying Killian’s fear. “It doesn’t necessarily _want_ anything from her. More that it probably sensed Miss Swan’s magic and led her here out of mere… _curiosity._ I’m guessing it didn’t start leading you until you did something to connect yourself to it. Tell me, what was it?”

“I used it to heal Killian.” Emma answers with a dawning understanding as she steps forward to stand next to Killian. “I began harnessing it, using it to practice gaining control of my own power. It was after that it started leading me.” She pauses and thinks for a moment. “Is it what caused us to crash? If it has as much power as you say it does, is it what ripped us out of hyperspace?”

“It’s possible,” he hums while he takes a look at his nails in disinterest, as though he’s merely humoring their questions. “That much magic could easily interfere with the technologies that run that spaceliner you’re so fond of hiding on.”

Emma looks at Killian briefly before turning her gaze back to the Dark One. Killian’s eyes dart down to her hands to see her flexing and extending her fingers, and he knows she’s preparing to use magic. And as much as he knows it’s their best shot to get out of here he loathes that Emma is the one who is going to be put in harm’s way.

“But,” the Dark One all but shouts, jerking Killian’s attention back to him. He raises his finger to point at Emma, his teeth bared in a scathing grimace. “There will be no more hiding, princess. You see I never got to tell you why it’s so poetic that this will be the place where I finally kill you.”

Without breaking eye contact with Emma, the Dark One holds out his hand as a cloud of smoke appears. It spirals and unfurls as it evaporates, disappearing only to reveal a jagged dagger lying in his palm.  

Killian’s eyes widen at the sight of the dagger, wasn’t it only days ago that he heard Elsa say that this weapon was the key to controlling the Dark One?

Killian watches the Dark One’s finger run along the curved edges of the dagger, waiting for a lapse in his attention, waiting for an opportunity to grab it, because he has to do _something._ He can’t just stand here waiting to be killed, waiting for _Emma_ to be killed. He has to save her—somehow he has to get her out of this.

But the imp gives no such opening, his grasp remaining firm around the dagger’s handle as he continues speaking.

“This magic can be channeled, or perhaps a better word is transferred, if one has the correct means to do so. Power taken directly from the rift and given to the one daring enough to take it. But it’s not as straightforward as it sounds. You see, you can’t come in direct contact with it. It’s too much magic for one body to take all at once—it would overwhelm and destroy you within seconds, and with nowhere to go the power source would be extinguished forever.”

Emma let’s out a tiny gasp and Killian tears his gaze away from the dagger, his attention immediately drawn to her. Her eyes widen in sudden understanding. “You…you’ve been—”

“Harnessing it yes,” he says delighted. “Only small bits at a time, as I said too much at once would only serve in killing me.”

“My parent’s kingdom,” Emma whispers in near devastation. “For years my parents couldn’t understand how you were gaining more power, how entire regions were falling into darkness. And this...this is how you’ve been gaining more power?”

Killian can feel Emma start to tremble beside him, but her clenched fists tell him it’s in rage instead of fear. Instinctively he takes a step closer to her, willing her not to do anything rash out of her anger.

“Wonderful isn’t it?” The demon sings, “Let me show you how it works.” And with a deep breath he closes his eyes and lifts the dagger, connecting the tip of it to the stream of light.

The humming in the air intensifies, vibrating with so much force that Killian feels as though his very bones are shaking.  And what happens next might be remarkable if it were under different circumstances.

The light begins to spread and wrap itself around the dagger. Shimmering as it stretches forward from the column it calls home. It continues to twists itself forward, slowly wrapping itself around the Dark One’s arm, extending itself until the coils of light completely encircle him.

What’s most unsettling, though, is the way the light changes as it reaches the Dark One. It morphs from its once brilliant, white light to a thick, black stream of darkness. A physical representation as the magic settles into its new role as the Dark One’s power.

It’s with another deep and satisfied breath that the Dark One pulls his dagger away from the light, and steps away.

Energy continues to snap within the column of light as though nothing has happened. And Killian might be imagining things, but he could swear the light looks slightly dimmer.      

“This dagger binds me. I am a slave to it,” the Dark One hisses as he opens his eyes.” But it is also what is going to give me my freedom. I almost have enough power to be free from it entirely and at that point there will be nothing and no one that can stop me.”

“No,” Emma whispers, the tremble in her voice more fury than devastation. “I won’t let you.”

Once again the imp releases a manic giggle. “And how exactly are you going to stop me, dearie? You’ll be dead in just a few minutes.”

“I’ll find a way,” she seethes, her fists clenching as she takes a step forward.

The Dark One smirks, eyes narrowing. And Killian hates the way the man’s focus is so fixed on Emma, is terrified of the malicious glint in his eyes.

But the man’s single-minded attention suddenly gives Killian an idea. And hoping that his fixation on Emma will keep the Dark One blind to his own actions, he begins to slowly move away from Emma and closer to the Dark One.

Because if he can just get the dagger, he can end all of this.

“I doubt it,” the imp scoffs, still unaware as Killian continues to circle closer. “Any last words for your parents? I think I’ll have time to share one last message before I completely destroy their kingdom.”

Killian’s close enough now that he’s confident he can tackle the demon and get the dagger. But just as he’s about to spring forward, a light so blinding that he has to shield his eyes bursts forward and blasts the Dark One back.

“Emma?” Killian calls, blinking as his eyes adjust back to the dimmer light. He’s unsure of where the blast came from, and it takes everything within him to not immediately panic. “Are you alright?”  

Finally able to see again, he finds her standing with her arms outstretched and her chest heaving, her hands still glowing from the use of her magic.

“I’m okay,” she breathes, her arms falling to her side.

He nods. Scanning her up and down to be sure she’s not hurt before spinning around in search of the Dark One.

The imp is struggling to stand, muttering crazed obscenities as he brushes the dirt from his clothes. And glinting on the stone floor a mere few feet away is the dagger.

Killian lunges for it, but before he can reach it the Dark One thrusts out a hand and throws Killian back.  

His body slams against the cavern wall with enough force to push the air from his lungs. Every inch of his body ignites in a flame of pain, and he cries out as he crumples to the floor.

“Killian!”

The world spins in front of him but Killian coughs as he hurries to push himself off the rocky floor.

“Emma—” He coughs again, trying to catch his breath. “The dagger... get the dagger.”

She runs for it, and though the room’s still tilting he moves to hurry after her, only to pull to an abrupt halt when Emma suddenly stops, her hands reaching frantically for her throat.

“Enough!” The Dark one shrieks, his face flushed and a vein throbbing visibly on his forehead. “I’ve had enough questions, enough games. This is ending right here.”

His hand is cupped as though it’s wrapped around Emma’s neck, and when he squeezes it a little tighter she gasps and chokes further, clawing at her throat as she struggles to breathe.

Kilian’s heart plummets and he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even think before he races towards the Dark One and throws himself on him, tackling him to the floor.

There’s more strength in the Dark One’s smaller frame than Killian anticipated, and he only gets a few good punches in before he’s being blasted back by magic again. But this time, the Dark One doesn’t leave him alone to catch his bearings.

Within seconds he’s hovering over Killian. “You’re really starting to irritate me,” he spits through his teeth before cupping his hand once more.

And even though there is no hand around Killian’s neck it feels as though a vice-like grip is crushing his throat. No matter how hard he struggles against it he can’t seem to draw in enough air to breathe properly.

“No!” Emma screams, “Please, let him go. You can kill me. I-I’ll let you kill me, just let him go.”

Killian’s eyes dart to Emma’s and he shakes his head desperately. _He can’t lose her._ He tries to call out to her, to tell her not to do this—but he only gasps and chokes further, unable to get the words out.

He hopes she can see the desperation in his eyes, hopes she can see the way he’s pleading with her, begging her to run—but as she stares back at him all he can see is a sad resolve shimmering in the water that’s gathering in her own eyes. And when she tries to give him a reassuring smile he feels like his heart is shattering.

“As touching as this is,” the Dark One says, “I was never planning on leaving either of you alive. It’s just a matter of who I was going to kill first.”

Emma inhales a shaky breath, her eyes dashing around the room as she looks for another solution. Finally they land on the column of light that stands nearly forgotten in the chaos of the last few moments.

“Let him go.” She says her tone serious and threatening. “Let him leave or I’ll destroy the rift. I’ll come in contact with it… I’ll destroy the power and you’ll never have another drop of it.”

The Dark One’s arm drops somewhat and the pressure around Killian’s neck releases slightly, but only enough for him to draw in small breaths of air.

“I don’t believe you. You won’t do it. It’ll kill you.” And though he claims disbelief, for the first time the Dark One looks frightened, an edge of panic in his words.

“You’re going to kill me anyway right? Might as well take the power you want with me.”

Killian struggles against the Dark One’s hold frantic and helpless to stop her, but the man’s powers have him frozen in place just as much as they have him struggling to breathe.

“Emma!” he tries to shout with the little air he has, but it comes out in little more than a gasp. “Emma, please. No. Don’t do this.”

Emma looks at him, tears freely streaming down her face. Killian thrashes against the Dark One’s hold, more desperate to get to her than he is to breathe. It feels like his heart is being ripped from his ribs, his entire chest is being torn to shreds and there’s nothing he can do about it.

She smiles at him, soft and sad, before taking a deep breath and standing a little taller, determination clear in her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers.

And those three words shake him to his core. She’s never said it. _He’s_ never said it. And he has to, he _needs_ to tell her that he feels the same but she never gives him the chance.

She steps forward into the snapping column of energy and at nearly the same instant a light so bright it’s blinding bursts forward, filling the room with its brilliance.

The Dark One’s shouts of rage are nothing compared to the anguish that screams inside Killian. Pure agony echoes inside him like a double edged knife tearing him apart. 

_This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening._

He can’t think, can’t hear, can’t _breathe_.

And it takes him a second to realize that it has nothing to do with the Dark One’s grip around his throat. That he’s no longer bound by magic, that the Dark One must have let him go when Emma stepped into the light.

The flash of light fades leaving the cavern so much darker than before. Killian blinks furiously, willing his eyes to readjust to the light.

He needs to see her.

Because this isn’t happening. This _can’t_ be happening.

He repeats this to himself like a mantra that is his only hope for salvation.

He’s shaking as he begins to make his way to his feet, and as he’s pushing himself up he sees it—the dagger lying abandoned on the floor.

Rage fills him and before the Dark One can come to his senses Killian grabs it and straightens. His anger flaring as he looks for the owner of the damned weapon.

He sees him, barely, as the once bright column of magic is now nothing more than a thin, pathetic stream of light. The cave is more darkness and shadows than anything.

But he sees him, and the man is standing not a foot away from Emma’s motionless form.

“Get away from her!” he yells, the dagger held out in front of him. And though he’s still shaking and he can barely see because of the tears in his eyes, his grip on the dagger remains firm.  

The Dark One turns, his eyes immediately drawn to the dagger in Killian’s hand before he clenches his jaw and obediently backs away to the edge of the cavern.

“Better not let go of that, dearie. Or you’ll—”

“Quiet!” Killian fumes and he surprises himself with how dangerous his voice sounds. “Not another word, crocodile. You’re going to stay right there, and you aren’t going to move.”

The Dark One narrows his eyes but he doesn’t move, forced to obey.  

Satisfied, Killian takes a deep breath and trembles as he finally turns back towards Emma.

_No. Please, no._  

She’s lying with her head turned delicately towards him. Her lashes brush softly against her cheek bones, and she looks just like she always does when she’s fast asleep beside him in their bed.

Killian kneels next to her, shaking harder than he ever has in his life, and puts the dagger down in front of him before wiping furiously at the tears in his eyes.

“Emma,” he whispers, choking on his own sob. “Please, Emma.”

He brushes his hand against her cheek and gently cups her face. His exhale shakes as he lowers his forehead until it rests against hers. “Please, come back.”

He whispers the words against her skin, but as much as he pleads with her she doesn’t move.

Squeezing his eyes shut a few more tears slip free, falling until they splash against her skin. He’s not sure how long he stays there, with his forehead pressed to hers, but he knows he never wants to leave.

And he doesn’t know if he’s even capable of leaving. All he knows is that he’ll never be able to let her go.

He’s sure he’s in some stage of shock when he begins to feel her move beneath him—wishful thinking and heartache surely combining to pull him into some sort of hallucination. But not quite ready to face his grief yet, he keeps his eyes closed and savors the feel of her skin against his for as long as he can.

“Killian?”

It’s _her_ voice that calls his name, soft and quiet.

But that’s impossible…isn’t it?

Something so much lighter than hope begins to fill his chest and when she says his name again, louder this time, he sits up and opens his eyes.

And he sees them, _her_ eyes—emerald and bright—staring back at him.

He sobs, a happy and broken sound, before reaching for her and pulling her to him, crushing her to his chest.

“You’re alive,” he breathes, tangling his hand in her hair and holding on to her for dear life. He’s still trembling and at this point only the feel of her chest expanding against his as she breathes his holding him together.

“You’re alive,” he repeats and pulls away from her just enough to be able to look into her eyes. He can’t stop the tears that are streaming down his face or the smile spreading across his cheeks.

She reaches up to brush his tears away with her thumbs, laughing as her own tears fall from her eyes.

“How?” Killian gasps. “H-he said—”

“Guess he was wrong.”

Emma smiles, and he’s positive it’s the most beautiful sight in the world. Unable to restrain himself a second longer Killian surges forward and captures her lips with his.

He feels her inhale as their lips connect, and she wraps her arms around his neck before melting into him and kissing him further.

His whole world is spinning, whirling off axis because of the onslaught of emotions he’s just experienced. But as he kisses Emma he feels himself center, she anchors him and all he feels now is complete elation that he can still hold her in his arms, still kiss her, still feel her heart beating.

She pulls away to breathe but Killian can’t bear to part from her just yet. So he keeps kissing her. Her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids.

“Killian,” she laughs. “I’m okay. I’m here, I’m right here.”

He presses another long kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes.

“Never do that again.” His voice is low and thick as he suddenly finds himself choking on how intense his emotions are.

“What? Never sacrifice myself to some magical, glowing, pillar of light thing again? Next time I come across one I’ll keep that in mind.”

She lifts his face up, and behind the playfulness in her eyes Killian can see a deeper relief that rivals his own.

He loves her. And he’s more than just a little overwhelmed by the fact that he lost her even if for just a moment. He loves her and it’s not the first time he’s realized it but it still rises and surges within him, a warmth that fills him until it settles in his bones and thrums throughout his veins. She’s managed to crawl inside him and connect her soul to his, and looking at her now he knows there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.

He reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and then trails his thumb across her cheek. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

Her eyes soften as her head tilts to the side. She leans in slow and almost tentative, pressing another kiss to his lips. It’s somehow both the sweetest and deepest kiss they’ve shared, and when Emma pulls away her eyes are shining with absolute joy.

“And I love you,” she whispers as she presses her forehead to his, a gentle smile on her lips.  


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is only one more chapter after this one! Thank you so much for reading!

It takes a few minutes before Emma bothers to focus on anything other than Killian. She was certain in that moment right before she stepped into the column of light that she would never see him again. But here she is, alive, and her heart swells with a relief that leaves her breathless.

Killian hasn’t taken his eyes off her, or his hands for that matter. She can feel his fingertips tracing an eternal pathway along her spine, and she smiles at him again before reaching up to brush her thumb against his cheekbone.

She could sit here staring at him forever, completely spellbound by the softness in his gaze, by the _love_ in his eyes.

But the dim light in the cavern sputters, drawing her attention. 

Looking up she takes in the column of light that now flickers pitifully, like a candle trying to hold on to its last inch of wick.  She can no longer feel the humming, and its absence leaves the air feeling emptier and her skin feeling colder, the hairs on her arms stand on end as though waiting for the familiar buzz of the magic to warm them.

She feels Killian straighten a little beside her. “What do you think happened to it?”

His whisper wafts through the hair by her face, and she shivers a bit as it tickles her skin.  “I don’t know,” she muses. “Maybe it’s gone somewhere, or maybe it’s just _gone._ ”

But even as she says this she doesn’t find herself believing it.

When she’d stepped into the light everything had been overwhelming. It was as if in that instant everything had frozen, keeping her locked in a never-ending assault on her senses. The light had left her blinded, all sound had been snuffed out by a constant ringing, and she could _feel_ the magic surging around her, surging _through_ her. And in the moment she expected it to overpower her; she’d felt it accept her instead.

And she swears she felt it _become_ a part of her.

Looking down at her hands she clenches her fists before inhaling through her nose and extending her fingers. Is it even possible? That instead of killing her like the Dark One predicted, she sort of absorbed the power instead?

Her eyes drill into her hands as she tries to determine if she feels any different, if she can feel more magic flowing through her.

And as she concentrates on her magic she starts to feel the familiar warmth that tingles just beneath her skin. Almost instantly a small amount of white light begins glittering across her palms. It looks no different than her usual magic but she still stares at it a little awed, wondering if she now holds all that power inside her.

Killian’s hands enter her vision, jolting her from her thoughts. She jumps slightly, her breath catches in her chest where she holds it as she watches him wrap his hands around hers. It’s as his thumbs begin smoothing a comforting path along her palms that she allows herself to exhale.

“Swan?”

She looks up at him. Concern presses down on his brow and dances in the shadows that flicker across his face. He dips his head ever so slightly until his eyes are at the same level as hers.

“Are you alright, love?”

She takes another deep breath and watches the light fade from her skin.

“I’m fine,” she assures him, looking up to meet his gaze. There’s a familiar storm swirling in his eyes and she knows he’s not going to stop worrying until she explains what’s going on with her. She reaches up to smooth away the worry creasing between his brows and sighs.

“I promise, everything is fine. I just think I may have absorbed the light’s magic—or channeled it I guess—however the hell it was the Dark One explained it.”

Killian’s mouth drops open as he stares at her in silent wonder. But it doesn’t take long for his slack jawed lips to curve into a playful smirk, his eyebrow arching as he chuckles lowly.

And she can’t help but smile with him at the incredulity of it all.

“Oh is that all?” He laughs again as he shakes his head. “You were already a bloody wonder before—however am I going to deserve you now?”

And though his eyes still shine with playfulness there is a seriousness in his tone, a breath of admiration and amazement as if he truly does wonder how he deserves her. And she doesn’t know what she ever did to earn the love of a man who looks at her this way, as if she breathes the very light into the stars each night. Not when he himself is a light in her life that far surpasses the warmth of the sun itself. 

But she’s not the best with words, so she leans in and kisses him again.

“You do far more than deserve me,” she whispers against his lips as she pulls back slightly. “Never doubt that.” 

He nudges his nose against hers and answers her with a smile that is so gentle her heart aches.

And every second she swears she loves him more.

“Now,” Emma says, giving her head a tiny shake in order to focus on something other than the way he’s looking at her.  There is still the matter of a more than likely enraged Dark One to take care of, and when she looks up, she finds him at the edge of the cavern. His features are shadowed but not hidden, as though the light is afraid to inch any closer than it already has. “What are we going to do with him?”

The man in question stands stock still, his mouth is pressed into a thin line and the sheer fury burning in his eyes sends a terrifying shiver through her.

Killian tenses beside her and she looks at him just in time to see him curl his fingers around the hilt of the Dark One’s dagger.

“That _crocodile_ can stay here and rot for all I care.” Killian spits through his teeth, and his anger is almost enough to match that of the Dark One’s.

Emma considers trying to calm the rage clearly simmering inside Killian, but she hates the man as much as he does. So instead she simply pulls herself to standing and brushes her hands off on her pants as she ponders what to do with the man that very nearly killed them both.

Killian is quick to follow, gathering and dusting himself off as he stands next to her. He eyes the Dark One as if he’d like nothing more than to stab him with the very dagger that controls him. But Emma’s heard enough tales to know that _that_ is definitely not an option.

She places her hand on Killian’s forearm and at her touch he relaxes his grip on the dagger, if only slightly. 

“I’m serious, Swan, let’s leave him.” Killian says, still lobbying to just let the demon waste away and spend his years of eternity in this dark cave. “He was just telling us how fond of the place he is.”

Sudden inspiration sparks at Killian’s words and Emma’s eyes widen, a small gasp escaping her as she turns to look at the Dark One. “Just how exactly _did_ you keep coming here? There are literal lightyears between this planet and home.”

She doesn’t dare let herself hope, or she tries not to at least. But in spite of her best efforts, thoughts of home race through her.

_Is it actually possible? Could they go back? Could she see her parents again?_

Emma’s chest swells with what at this point is definitely hope, but the Dark One remains silent and Emma finds that irritation easily rises inside her as he simply mocks her with the tiniest of smirks.

Emma clenches her fists so hard she starts shaking. “How did you do it?” she repeats through her teeth. “How did you get here?”

Still he says nothing. His eyes taunting her with twisted amusement.

Emma huffs. She wants nothing more than to scream in frustration, but instead she focuses on breathing through her nose and trying to control the heightened magic simmering away just beneath the surface of her skin.

“Hold on, love.” Killian says suddenly, and when she turns her head to look at him, he’s scratching just behind his ear. “I may have silenced him earlier.” He lifts the dagger, aiming the tip of it directly at the Dark One’s heart. “You’re free to speak now, you imp.”

It’s as if a switch is flipped, and the manic giggle that emits from the Dark One is such a stark contrast to the silence that preceded it.

“Silence truly isn’t golden now is it, dearies?” he sings, bringing his hands together in front of him. “Now as much as I’ve treasured watching you two lovebirds canoodle over there, if you’re going to leave me here to rot you best be off. I’m not sure I can stomach another kiss.”

He makes a dramatic show of shooing them away, but despite the flair of his actions there is an undercurrent of barely suppressed rage. And it’s clear that he’s furious they’ve somehow managed to thwart him.

But he still hasn’t answered her question and Emma finds herself more irritated than anything. She’s in no mood to play games and so she grabs the dagger from Killian’s hand and holds it out in front of her.

“Answer my question,” she demands. “How did you get here?”

The Dark One narrows his eyes, a dark rage burning in his glare. He grits his teeth before hissing the answer at her. “A portal.”

Emma inhales quickly and spins to look at Killian. He’s staring at the Dark One with wide eyes and his mouth slightly gaped open. When he turns to meet her gaze a huge grin splits his face, and Emma can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes her. This is it. They’re finally going to go home.

She whirls around to face the Dark One, and she doesn’t even try to contain the excitement in her voice. “Can you make it again?”

His mouth all but disappears as he presses his lips together, his eyes flit to the dagger in her hand and she can see him fighting the hold the weapon has over him. Finally he looks at her again and snarls out the answer. “Theoretically yes, I can make it again.”

It takes a second for his words to truly register with her. Going home was a concept she’d done her grieving for and made peace with. She’d buried that desire and moved on. But now, hearing that it is possible again, is like a reawakening of every hope, every _need_ she ever had to just make it home and see her parents again, to eat real food, to take a hot bath, to sleep in an _actual_ bed.

And as his words sink in and settle, absolute happiness spreads inside her with so much intensity she feels as if everything from her lungs to her heart might burst.

Laughter escapes her as she turns and throws herself at Killian. Her arms circling his neck as he lifts her until not even her toes are skimming the floor. She presses her face into his neck, hiding her smile against his skin as she sighs happily.

She never dreamed this would ever be possible again, but they have a way now, they can go home. 

Killian gives her a tight squeeze and spins her once, which only serves in making her giggle more, before he sets her back down on the cavern floor. 

She shakes her head in disbelief and bites back a smile before tilting her face up and meeting Killian’s eyes. “Do you know what this means?” she asks him just as a single tear slips free from her eyes.

His returning smile is filled with utter elation, and if her heart wasn’t going to burst a few seconds ago, it definitely is now. Soft as wind, his fingers brush away her tear just before tucking her hair behind her ear as he answers her. “Aye, my love. We can go home.”

It’s music, that phrase, and she repeats it like a hymn.        

“We can go home.”

* * *

They walk back to camp hand in hand. Killian has the dagger securely nestled in his belt and the Dark One walks in front of them. They may have possession of the dagger but Emma doesn’t trust that it’s quite enough to keep the Dark One from somehow twisting out of its hold and seeking retaliation. So he walks in front of them where they can keep a sharp eye on him.

They’d wandered quite a ways from camp, and when you combine that with more than one wrong turn, it takes them a while to make it back.  By the time they break through the tree line into the camp’s clearing, it’s nearly sunset.

A soft orange glow paints the array of tents, and it’s fairly quiet except for the soft murmurings of a few people gathered around their various camp fires.

Emma hesitates, unsure of what they should do next. It’s just now occurring to her what sort of panic might erupt from them just marching into camp with the Dark One in tow.

She takes a step backwards, considering returning to the cover of the trees and keeping the Dark One out of sight until she can explain the situation, when she hears her name called out.

“Emma?” 

Elsa and Ruby are running towards them, alarm and worry on both their faces. They skid to a halt a safe distance away, and Elsa’s eyes flick between her and the Dark One several times before her gaze settles on Emma.

“Emma, what—” Elsa breathes hard, looking at Ruby briefly before she turns her attention back on Emma, her features a mix of confusion and fear. “Emma, what is going on? Where did you guys go? We’ve been so worried, we thought maybe—”

“We’re fine.” Emma interrupts her. “We’re both fine. It’s a long story though. I’ll catch you up later.” She smiles as she looks between them, her earlier excitement returning. “We’re going home. _Right now._ We need to tell everyone to gather their things and meet up in the center of camp.”

Baffled, Elsa blinks at her, opening and closing her mouth several times as she tries and fails to say something. Ruby, on the other hand, looks at the Dark One briefly before looking back at them, her eyes immediately zeroing in on the dagger at Killian’s hip. Slowly, her lips lift in a sly smile and her eyes flash with sudden understanding.

“Emma, what the hell did you guys do?” Ruby asks, still smirking.

“Later.” Emma promises. “Let’s just get everyone ready to go.”

* * *

Emma thought she’d be quicker at packing up what little possessions she’s gathered on this planet, yet she’s anything but efficient as she stands in the middle of her tent and stares down at what little she has.

In all reality she doesn’t really need to take anything with her. She’s going home, and it’s not as if she’ll have an actual need for any of this stuff. But as she stands in the mess of their random belongings, she can’t help the pull she feels to take it all with her. As happy as she is to leave this planet behind, it does hold a lot of memories.

Bending down she scoops up one of the blankets from their bed. It’s the one Killian had given her from his pack when they first landed, the one she’d obstinately used as she slept on the opposite side of the fire as him. She smiles to herself as she folds it over her arm and runs her fingers along the worn fabric, remembering how cold she’d been those first nights, and how much warmer she’d been when she’d finally opened up a bit and slept beside him.

A bit of rustling outside the tent wall pulls her from her thoughts and she spins around just in time to see Killian ducking his head as he steps inside.

“I’ve given Elsa the dagger for the moment. She’s keeping an eye on the crocodile while we gather our things.”

He smiles at her softly before bending and rummaging through his pack. Emma watches as he removes most of what’s inside it, replacing it with only a few other random things. When he looks as though he’s about finished, he reaches his hand into one of the front pockets and pulls out a ration bar. He grimaces at it before tossing it to the corner of the tent.

“Definitely not going to miss those things,” he says as he looks up at her. “Bloody awful, they were.”

Emma laughs. “We appreciated them in the moment, though.”

“Aye, that we did.” He stands and steps towards her, slinging his pack over one shoulder. “I think I’ve got everything I need. Can I help you pack anything, love?”

She shakes her head softly and gives a tiny shrug before lifting the blanket in her arms to grant him a clearer view of what she’s holding. “I’m only taking this.”

Killian arches a brow at her before snaking an arm around her waist and gently pulling her towards him. She comes easily, the blanket in her arms pressing between them as she tilts her head to look up at him.

“Are you sure, Swan? I’ve got plenty of room in my pack.”

“I’m sure,” she nods. “All I really want to remember about this place is the time I spent with you, and this seems like as good a thing as any to do that.”

She feels the tips of his fingers brush along the shell of her ear as he smiles down at her. She can practically see as the memories of their first moments on the planet run through his mind, visible in the way his eyes shimmer with reminiscence.

“It’s perfect,” he says, his voice low and deep. He bends his head towards hers, and Emma rises on her tip toes to meet him, their lips pressing together in a tender kiss. 

She sighs and keeps her eyes closed as her feet fall back to the earth. Killian follows after her, his lips not quite leaving hers.

Emma hums in happiness. “We’re going home,” she whispers against his lips. It still doesn’t quite feel real, and she’s half expecting to wake up and discover this is all just some good dream. But as Killian wraps his other arm around her and squeezes her a little tighter she’s reminded just how real this all is.

“Do you think your parents will like me?” Killian asks as he pulls back slightly, and there is such a seriousness in the way he’s tilting his head, that Emma can’t help but bite her lip as she tries to keep herself from laughing. It’s definitely not a question she was expecting.

“Of course they’ll like you,” she says as she hits his chest playfully. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well…” he mumbles quietly as he scratches just behind his ear. “You are a princess.”

“And you’re a lieutenant,” she fires back. “And you saved my life here many times, and if that doesn’t win my father over, I don’t know what will. Trust me, they’ll like you. As long as I’m happy, they’re happy.”

He smiles somewhat shyly and Emma finds herself loving the way the tips of his ears have gone slightly pink.

“If you say so, Swan.”

“I say so,” she says firmly, stepping out of his embrace and threading her fingers through his hand instead. She tugs his arm slightly and leads them towards the tent’s exit. “Now, let’s go make ourselves a portal.”

* * *

The entire camp is gathered together, the air rumbles with cautious excitement as everyone whispers amongst themselves. Most are keeping their distance from where Emma stands with Killian, Ruby, Elsa, and the Dark One.

Not that she blames them. The anger that is still burning off the Dark One is enough to scorch fear into any sane person’s heart.

She’s well aware of all the eyes that are trained on her, and so with a deep breath Emma steps in front of the Dark One, dagger in hand, and meets his steel gaze with one she hopes is just as hard.

“Alright, Dark One. You’re going to make a portal that leads directly to my parent’s castle, and that is it. You will use no other magic. This portal gets us all back safely, understood?”  

Emma breathes slowly as she waits for him to respond. It’s like she’s standing at the edge of a still pond, unease rippling through her as she waits for some slinking crocodile to break the surface and disrupt the water.

She knows that as long as she has control of the dagger he has to do as she says, but as he stares at her with sharp eyes and gritted teeth she can’t help but fear that somehow he may have enough power to break free from the dagger’s prison.

The longer he’s unresponsive, the louder the whisperings of the crowd get—but Emma swallows and stands firm, refusing to let her gaze drop from his.

Finally he moves, and it’s all dramatics as he twists his wrists in the air and answers. “Of course, your _highness._ ” He hisses the title at her, and the complete hatred in his eyes sends chills racing to the base of her spine. “Just give me a moment.”

He draws his hands out in front of him, and slowly the air in front of him swirls as he weaves a portal out of nothing except the space around him.

The wind picks up. Fluttering their clothes and whispering through the leaves. Her hair whips against her face and she tucks it behind her ears as she watches and waits for the portal to be complete.

Eventually the Dark One lowers his hands, and a giant portal now splits the air where it swirls and shimmers with scattered stardust.

Complete silence falls over the camp. The only sounds are the occasional fidget as people look around at one another, waiting to see who will be the first to enter the portal’s seemingly endless depths.

Emma spins towards Killian, Elsa, and Ruby, beaming from ear to ear. “Alright, who wants to go first?”

She knows it has to be one of them. No one else will want to otherwise. And this way they can hopefully ease any uncertainties anyone else may have.

Elsa steps forward, excitement clear in her quiet smile. “Ruby and I will go. And then you two can make sure everyone else gets through before following.”

Emma nods before throwing her arms around Elsa and squeezing her tight. “Tell my parents I’ll be there soon.”

Elsa pulls away and puts her hands on Emma’s arms. “I’m sure by the time they’re aware of what’s going on you’ll be home and able to tell them yourself.”

Emma has to blink several times to keep herself from crying—she’s missed her parents more than she ever thought possible, and it’s only a few minutes now until she can see them again.          

She hugs Elsa one more time before turning and wrapping her arms around Ruby. “We’ll see you on the other side.” Ruby whispers as she crushes Emma to her.

Ruby pulls away and throws a wink at Killian before walking with Elsa towards the portal. Together they take a deep breath and glance at one another before stepping through the portal.

The world freezes as they vanish out of sight, a held breath that suspends for the length of several heartbeats before everything breathes again and the people around them begin speaking in excited whispers.

Emma laughs happily before wrapping her arms around one of Killian’s and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Together they watch as everyone begins lining up and stepping through the portal one by one.

“It’s really happening,” she says in slight awe. She tilts her head and looks up at Killian. “Can you believe this is really happening?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead before answering. “Aye, love. It’s really happening.”

When the final person steps through, and all that remains is the Dark One and themselves, Emma grabs Killian’s hand and takes a step closer to the portal, a step closer to home.

“You first, crocodile,” Killian growls, his jaw tensing as he glares at the Dark One.

Emma places a soothing hand on his chest before tightening her grip on the dagger and holding it out in front of her. “Step through the portal and do nothing else. Once you’re through, don’t move, don’t speak, don’t do anything. Is that clear?”

The Dark One gives her a bitter smile. “One day you’re not going to have that dagger, princess. And don’t think I won’t hesitate to stop both of your pathetic little hearts.”

Emma’s heart jumps a little at the threat, and she leans in closer to Killian. “We’ll see,” she says with as much steel and confidence as she can.

The Dark One’s jaw tenses and he turns and steps through the portal without another word.

Emma exhales heavily and shakes her head before looking up at Killian. “Ready?”  

He smiles down at her, his eyes shining. “Ready.”

And together they step through the portal and towards home.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: This is it. This is the last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone that has taken the time to read it :) I'm kind of sad that its over, but I love the way it's ended. I'd love any last thoughts or reviews you have and thank you again for going on this little journey with me!

Killian’s not sure what he was expecting upon stepping through the portal, and he’s not sure the experience is long enough for him to even register what actually happens. All he knows is that for a small moment complete blackness engulfs him and he’s aware of little else but the feel of Emma’s hand in his. And then, before he even has a chance to take a second breath, it’s over.   

He blinks against the brightness of the sun, squinting as his eyes readjust. Immediately he scans their surroundings, and it’s not hard to recognize the stone walls of Queen Snow and King David’s castle that now towers above them. The portal must have dropped them off right in the middle of the castle grounds.

The air around him vibrates with the excited voices of _The Swan’s_ survivors. They laugh and talk in tangible relief, hugging one another as they rejoice in making it home.

Killian can’t help but smile right along with them, his heart racing from pure joy.

_They did it, they made it back._

Quickly, he turns his attention to Emma, anxious to see how she’s taking this all in. But she doesn’t even glance at him. Her eyes drink in everything in front of her, and complete and total happiness seems to radiate off her as she searches the crowd eagerly.

Her focus eventually settles on the castle’s entrance, and looking up to follow her gaze, he spots the king and queen as they step out into the courtyard.  

Her parents stand with their mouths slightly agape, shock and a tentative hopefulness etched in the lines of their faces. Their eyes skate across the throng of people but never quite land on Emma.

“Mom! Dad!” Emma yells, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to make herself more visible. But her voice never reaches her parent’s ears, easily becoming lost amidst the noise of celebration

She turns back to him briefly, a huge smile on her face, and hands him the dagger before squeezing his hand and turning to set off for her parents.

Killian follows after her at a slower pace, watching her blonde hair sway against her back as she pushes her way through the crowd. 

“Mom! Dad!”

This time they hear her.

Both of their heads snap up and Killian can pinpoint the exact moment they spot her. And if anyone were to ever ask him what pure joy looks like, this would be it.

Their eyes widen and Queen Snow brings her hand to her mouth as tears that Killian can see even from this distance, shine from her eyes. King David has tears of his own streaming down his face as he looks at his daughter as if nothing in the world means more to him. 

When Emma finally pushes past the crowd, and there is no longer anything blocking her path, she sprints the last few steps to her parents. They run to meet her, and with arms outstretched they envelop her in a desperate hug. 

Killian watches as Emma’s mother squeezes her eyes shut, tears continuing to fall from her eyes as she laughs with complete joy. Her father tenderly places a hand to the back of her head and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as he presses his cheek against her head and soaks her in.

So desperate, and so potent is their happiness as they cling to one another, that Killian can practically feel it tugging at his own insides. He stops a few feet away, leaving the royal family to their happy reunion.

“Emma, oh Emma,” Queen Snow gushes, pulling back slightly so she can cup Emma’s face with both of her hands. “We’ve been so worried. But I _knew_ —I just _knew_ you were still alive, no matter what anyone tried to tell me.”

 “We’re so glad you’re alright.” King David sighs as he presses a kiss to her hair. “We missed you so much.”

They hug a little longer before Emma finally steps out of their embrace, wiping at her eyes. She laughs happily, repeatedly bringing her hands to her face to brush away the tears that can’t quite seem to stop.

“I thought I’d never see you again. _The Swan,_ it crashed,” she starts to explain. “Not many of us survived and communications were ruined, but we were on some planet and—” she pauses to take a deep breath before looking over her shoulder at Killian, as though searching for his help in explaining everything.

The queen’s eyes follow Emma’s attention, her eyebrow quirking slightly as she takes him in. Her attention doesn’t linger, however, and soon she’s turning back to her daughter and placing her hands on Emma’s arms, giving her a gentle squeeze. “We’ll have time to talk about it later after you’ve rested.” 

Emma visibly deflates in relief, and it hits Killian just how much they’ve been through together. How could they ever possibly explain it all?

“You’re Lieutenant Jones. I’ve seen you at gatherings with the Navy.” The queen says turning back to him and eyeing him curiously. A smile lifts her lips when Emma steps towards him and wraps her hand in his. And if he’s not mistaken he would say her eyes brighten just a bit.

The queen is all smiles, and quite possibly the kindest woman he’s met. It’s the king, however, that makes his brow sweat and his stomach clench with nerves, especially with the way his eyes drop to their entangled hands. Killian has to swallow thickly as he does his best to resist the temptation to scratch behind his ear. He stands a little straighter and hopes that despite the dirt and wear that comes from living on an unchartered planet he looks the respectable part of a Navy Lieutenant, that maybe he looks like he is good enough for someone like Emma.

“Your majesties,” he says with a slight bow to his head.

The queen’s exhale comes out as a soft laugh. “Call us Snow and David, please,” she admonishes sweetly.

Emma leans into his side and rests both her hand and her head on his chest. Warmth spreads through him at her intentional display of affection, the nerves in his stomach easing the second she settles against him.

“I wouldn’t be here without Killian.” Emma says almost reverently as she looks up at him, and Killian gets a little lost in the affection shimmering in her eyes. He smiles softly at her, and he’d kiss her if her parents weren’t standing not but a foot away.  

The king clears his throat, and Killian looks up quickly, desperately hoping that the burning he feels in his ears isn’t visible.

_Snow_ is just shy of bouncing up and down, and if the way she’s beaming at them is any indicator, she holds no objections to where her daughter has seemingly placed her affections.

David’s smile is quieter, and he nods his head and offers Killian his hand. “Thank you for watching out for her.”

His voice rings with sincerity, and all Killian can manage for the moment is to blink at the king as he shakes his hand.  

Finally, after clearing his throat and giving his head a hard shake, Killian finds his voice. “Of course, but it was your daughter that really kept us alive.”

David’s smile inches a little higher as if he’d expect nothing less, and he gives Killian’s shoulder a strong squeeze before stepping back and reaching for his wife’s hand. 

Suddenly remembering the dagger that’s still in his hand, Killian holds it out in front of him, offering it to the king and queen.

“We had a little run in with the Dark One, it’s how we got home, but here—” he stretches his arm a little further, waiting for them to take it.

Both of their eyes widen, and in perfect synchronization they turn and look at one another. David is the first to do anything, reaching for the dagger and sliding it into his belt before saying anything.

“It seems there’s a lot you need to tell us. But we can’t thank you enough,” he says, shaking his head in slight awe. “You have no idea how long we’ve searched for this.”

“We have a dungeon that will hold him,” Snow supplies as she places her free hand on her husband’s chest and looks up at him. “We had it built the second we realized he was after Emma. It’s such a deep relief to know we can keep her safe from him now.”

“Aye, I know the feeling.” Killian lets go of Emma’s hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her. He knows all too well what it would feel like to lose her to that crocodile, and he pulls her a little closer to chase away those dark thoughts.

“You must be exhausted,” Snow says, and she looks between them with the type of concern only a mother could show. “Let’s get you settled, and then you can eat, or bathe, or sleep, or do whatever it is you need. And then tomorrow we can talk about everything.”

She steps up to them and takes Emma’s hand, and together the two women begin walking towards the castle. Killian hesitates, unsure if the invitation extends to someone such as himself. But as he’s standing there contemplating whether or not he should just step back and disappear into the mass of other survivors, Emma turns back to look at him, an easy smile on her lips.

“Come on,” she hums, extending her hand and waiting for him to take it. Tentatively, he places his hand in hers and nearly trips over his feet when she tugs him towards her. “Think I’m going to let you stay out here?” she whispers with a cute tilt of her head.  “I want you to stay with me.”

And the way she says those words sounds like so much more than her just asking him to come up to the castle with her.

_I want you to stay with me_.

I want you to be with me. I want _you_.

And bloody hell, he loves this woman.

“I’ll take care of things out here,” David says, and it takes physical effort for Killian to drag his eyes from Emma to look back at the King. “Make sure everyone gets some food while we contact their families.”

Snow nods. “We’ll see you inside.”

-CS-

The first thing Emma does is bathe.

And it’s not just a quick rinse. It’s an as hot as she can stand it, soaking for hours,  bubbles and soaps included type of bath—and it’s wonderful.

Later she stuffs herself with her favorite home cooked meal and spends hours cuddled up on the couch talking with her parents. And before she knows it she’s lying in her huge bed surrounded by the softest pillows and the thickest blankets waiting for sleep to come.

It feels _so_ good to be home.

After so many nights spent on the stiff, unforgiving ground she could sink into the depths of her bed, never to be found again, she’s sure of it.

But in spite of the absolute cloud like quality of her bed, she finds herself unable to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. Sleep dodging her like some cruel game of hide and seek.

She probably only spends a few minutes tossing and turning—though it feels like hours—before she sighs and sits up, using her hands to push herself up against her headboard.

It’s not hard to figure out why she can’t sleep, and she licks at her lips contemplating whether or not she should just suffer through the night, or if she should get up and fix what is so obviously wrong with her sleeping arrangements.

Deciding she’d rather sleep, Emma swings her legs off the side of the bed and heads for her bedroom door. The floor is cold against her bare feet, but she keeps quiet as she steps out of her room and closes her door softly.  

The patter of her feet echoes throughout the long hallway as she makes her way to the other end of the castle. Her parents had made sure Killian got a room up on the same floor as the rest of the family, but it was very obviously on the opposite side of hers. She figures her father had more to do with that than her mother.

Stopping just outside Killian’s door, she stares at the dark oak for a solid ten seconds deliberating on whether or not she should knock or just walk in. She shifts her weight from side to side for a few more seconds before giving her head a tiny shake—she’s being silly. Of course she can just walk in.

And so with an exaggerated breath that lifts her shoulders, she places her hand on the doorknob and quietly pushes the door open before whispering his name.

“Killian?” 

She hears the rustle of his bedsheets before she sees him, his shadow becoming visible as he sits up. It’s a dark contrast against the brightness of the moon that shines behind him. His curtains blow softly as the wind from the open window whispers against them. She should have guessed he’d like sleeping with the window open, what with how much he loves the stars.

“Emma? What is it, love?”

He doesn’t _sound_ as though he’d been sleeping but as she crosses the room and crawls onto his bed she apologizes just the same.

“I’m sorry if I woke you, I just…I couldn’t sleep.”

With a sigh he lies back down, gently pulling her with him. He tucks the blanket around her and she scoots a little closer, laying her head on his chest and listening to the quiet rhythm of his heart. 

“I wasn’t asleep. C _ouldn’t_ sleep either, is what I should say.”

She hums, reaching up to trace nonsense patterns along his chest as she lets an easy silence settle over them. It’s not until their breaths gently synchronize that she says anything.

“I missed you. Guess I’m so used to falling asleep next to you that it feels weird not to now.”

He takes a deep breath, her body rising and falling with his, before pressing a kiss to her hair. “Well then, we seem to be in quite the predicament, darling. I was having a difficult time finding sleep without you as well. I suppose you’ll just have to keep sharing my bed if either of us is going to get any sleep.”

Pushing herself up slightly, she rests her forearms on his chest and stares down at him. She has to suppress a giggle as she tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Aye, I’m afraid it’s the only way.”

She doesn’t even try to contain the laughter that bubbles up inside of her this time, giggling as she leans down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Hmmm… that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Even with only the light from the night sky spilling into his room, she can still see his responding smirk as he reaches up to twist a piece of her hair around his finger.

“We’ll have to treasure it, love. I might not be here come morning, your father is likely to kill me if he discovers you in my bed.”

She reaches up, brushing back the hair that’s fallen in his eyes. “He’ll just have to get over it then.” Killian raises both eyebrows and she laughs again before placing her head back on his chest. “Okay, right. He’ll probably never get over it—but don’t worry I’ll protect you.”

Killian chuckles lowly and she feels it vibrate throughout her. “I have nothing to fear then, do I?”

“Nope,” she says, popping the _p_ at the end just as her eyes drift close, the long day suddenly catching up to her. She hasn’t slept since the night before, when she went chasing after the planet’s magic and ended up running into the Dark One instead.

It feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

And here now, with Killian’s arms around her and an actual bed beneath her, she finds herself falling asleep easier than she has in a while.

“How has your first day back home been?”

 She barely hears Killian’s question, and she has to drag herself back to full consciousness to answer him. She yawns and licks her lips, keeping her eyes closed as she responds. “It was wonderful. How was yours? I haven’t seen you since dinner.”

“It was good. I wandered the castle a bit—found the library.”

“I can show you around more tomorrow if you’d like. And then maybe we can go out? To the beach maybe? Or maybe you could take me sailing?”

He presses another kiss to her head. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” she says simply, and she finds herself dreaming about all the things they can do together now that they aren’t spending their days worrying about surviving.

The minutes tick by as silence falls over them, peaceful and warm, and Emma finds herself surrendering to sleep’s pull.  

Distantly, she thinks she hears Killian whisper the words _I love you_ , but she’s too far gone to actually tell. She sighs deeply and nuzzles a little closer, and even though sleep takes her before she can say it back, she definitely feels it.

She’s never loved someone more.


End file.
